


Bad Blood

by sharmilaganapathy



Category: Crime Story
Genre: Original Fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-09-25 03:21:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 22,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17113493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharmilaganapathy/pseuds/sharmilaganapathy
Summary: What does it take to catch a killer? Dr. Venkath Das finds out that the process is not as straightforward as he thought it would be,  when his past catches up with him.





	1. Part 1

It was just the kind of place a body liked to show up in.

The stench of stale urine permeated the air. The once-blue stairwell railing was covered with rust, discarded chewing gum and various stains. The dusty cement floor was cracked and papered with rubbish. Somewhere below, a hacking cough and the rustle of newspapers broke the oppressive silence.

Venkath Das jogged up two flights of stairs, the sound of his own breath punctuating his hurried steps. It was still early, about twenty minutes to daybreak. His body was still stiff in the cold morning air, and his mind was far from the dank stairwell, suffused with memories of her.

Her warmth. Her curves against his body. Her fingers clutching his hips as they made love.

The smell of her hair. The perfume that would linger after she left for work. His chest constricted; he gritted his teeth to drive the memories out of his mind, at least for now. He had a job to do.

"Morning, Venkath." A plump, solemn-looking man in his early forties called out as he reached the top of the stairs. The man's sky-blue dress shirt was tucked messily into the waistband of black slacks with frayed hems. On his feet were scuffed black loafers. His hair was uncombed and his eyes bloodshot with lack of sleep (or one too many glasses of scotch, Venkath couldn't tell). There were lines around his eyes and the corners of his mouth.

"Morning, Lawrence. You look terrible," Venkath said, briefly clasping the other man's hand.

"Sorry to cut your vacation short, but this couldn't wait," Inspector Lawrence Lourdes said in response. He nodded in the direction of a parking space a few metres away. A young officer in uniform was standing over the body of a woman, diligently taking notes. From where he stood, Venkath could see a pair of slender legs, knees covered in red material. A red stiletto lay on the ground a few feet away.

Venkath's face turned dark and his pulse quickened.

When Lawrence, his cousin, called him half an hour ago, he had been surprised. The small town hadn't seen a murder since he'd first arrived, five years ago. He was the closest Kuala Pilah had to a medical examiner.

Then he'd thought that this was probably just a regular murder case. A mugging gone wrong in a car park. But in this moment, he knew. Knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that what they were dealing with wasn't an open-and-shut case.

The present held no solace for the past. Five years ago, Venkath left his hometown of Penang to start life afresh in Kuala Pilah. Hoping he'd left behind the ghosts that had robbed him of his marriage, and his peace of mind. And here he was again, looking down at a new ghost.

She lay in the centre of an empty parking space flanked by two cars. She was wearing a chili-red dress that ended below her knees; her face thick with makeup, yet her lips were covered with a subtle wash of pink lip gloss. Her eyes were closed and her lips parted in a silent 'o'; her arms were folded under her head and her body hunched into a foetal position. If not for the red ligature marks around her neck, Venkath would have thought she had simply fallen asleep.

He took a deep breath before putting on the latex gloves Lawrence handed him. The young uniformed officer looked on silently as Venkath knelt on one knee beside her.

She was young, in her early twenties at most, he thought. He lifted her eyelids, the corneas were still clear, but the whites of her eyes were bloodshot. Subconjunctival haemorrhage. Ligature marks on her neck.

He rotated her neck slightly and returned it to its previous position. "Rigor mortis hasn't set in yet, she's been dead for less than two hours. I'll give you a more exact time after the post-mortem, but so far it looks like she was strangled."

Inspector Lawrence handed him a large envelope with "Evidence" written on the flap. "I took photos of the body and bagged this while waiting for you," he said.

Venkath took the envelope, and opened it. Inside was a sealed Zip-loc bag containing a black leather woman's wallet. His fingers trembled slightly as he undid the clasp of the wallet.

It was empty, as he had suspected. He checked all the compartments, just to be sure. There was RM300 in RM50 denominations, but no driver's license or identification card. What he did find was a single RM1 note carefully folded into a pyramid and placed in the compartment where coins should have been. His hands shook as he held the note in his hand. He heard a camera clicking close behind him, no doubt the young officer taking extra photos of the evidence.

"Is that everything?" he asked Lawrence as he rose to his feet. He replaced the wallet and car keys in their bags and handed it over to his cousin.

"Yes, that's all there was," Lawrence replied.

"Who found the body?" Venkath asked.

"I did, sir." A raspy male voice piped up from behind Lawrence. It was the baby-faced officer who had been taking notes when Venkath arrived. He was tall and reed-like, with smooth skin, and cropped hair which didn't sit right with his Taiwanese-pop-singer good looks. But his eyes were keen and intelligent and he stood with his shoulders and back ramrod straight.

"And you are?" Venkath asked him, shaking the hand he was offered.

The officer stood up straighter. "Paul Ong, sir. I just started work last week."

"Dr. Venkath Das. Now, tell me what happened this morning."

"I received a call from police despatch at 6.05 am, saying that a male anonymous caller had phoned in to report that he'd found the body here at around 6.00 am. I found her here at 6.17 am. The caller was nowhere to be seen," Paul explained.

"Who moved the body?" Venkath asked quietly, looking steadily at Paul.

Paul looked at him in surprise. "No one did, sir. I called Inspector Lawrence right after I found the body. We were waiting for you to arrive."

Venkath looked at the young officer for a moment, then waved his cousin over. "Lawrence, come take a look at this," he said.

The inspector squatted on the floor next to Venkath. "What is it?"

"See this?" Venkath said, picking up the shoe lying on the ground. The bottom of the shoe was covered in mud and bits of grass. "Mud and grass. They're still wet, which means she wasn't killed here, this was a body dump." The camera continued to click industriously as he pointed to the skirt of the dead girl's dress. There were several short, fine hairs on the material, just above her left knee.

Lawrence's eyebrows shot up. "Hmm, they look like cat-hairs. Paul, take photos," he instructed to the young officer.

Venkath frowned as he extracted the hairs with a pair of pincers from his toolkit. He placed them carefully in a small plastic packet and sealed it. The killer hadn't slipped up before, the previous crime scenes had been devoid of DNA or trace evidence. Yet here they had found cat-hairs.

"Think he's trying to play us?" Lawrence broke the silence.

Venkath shook his head. "Her clothes and makeup are perfect, her nails immaculate; this is not a woman who would walk out of the house with muddy shoes and cat-hairs all over her. The sooner we find out who she is, the closer we get to catching this bastard," he said, half to himself.

"We will," Lawrence said, clenching and unclenching his right fist. It was a childhood habit he had never gotten rid of, (it also stopped him from planting the same fist in many a face, which had helped him move up the ranks in the police force).

"I'll stay here with her until the ambulance arrives," Venkath said. "I want to take another look at her in case I missed anything. I'll call you when I'm back at the hospital."

"Paul, give us a moment, will you?" Lawrence said, clearing his throat.

"I'll wait for you in the car, sir," Paul replied, with a quick wave to Venkath. Venkath waved back half-heartedly.

He got to his feet and removed his gloves, dropping them into the Zip-loc bag Lawrence held out. "What, you don't trust me with the evidence?" he said as soon as Paul was out of earshot.

"Of course not! It's just that after Penang—"

"I didn't let it affect my work then, I am not about to now," Venkath said firmly, cutting him off mid-sentence.

"Has she—" Lawrence tried again, but Venkath shot him a look that silenced him. They waited for the ambulance to arrive, the air hanging cold and silent between them.

He was done with the post-mortem by noon. There had been no bruises on the girl's body, no sign of any defense wounds on her hands, which meant she had known her assailant, or that she'd had no time to react. Or both. There was nothing distinctive about the mud and grass on the bottom of her shoes; they could have come from any garden, field or park. The only thing of any use was the cat hairs, under the microscope they looked like they belonged to a grey tabby. The red fibres on her neck were nylon, possibly from a long strip of fabric of some kind. Just like the other victims, all those years ago.

His cell rang after he'd examined the corpse a second time. It was Lawrence. "We know who she is, Venkath. Alicia Ling; her parents reported her missing yesterday morning. Her father is here to identify the body."

Ling. Why was that name so familiar?

"She's Alan Ling's daughter. As in Alan Ling, the real estate tycoon," Lawrence's voice sounded strained.

"Give me ten minutes to finish up here," Venkath said, and hit the end call button.

There was a reason Lawrence was tense. The Ling family had founded Kuala Pilah from nothing when they'd emigrated from China in the 1900s. The case would have been moved to the top of Lawrence's list, because of the family's prominence. Lawrence wouldn't have liked that. .

Venkath gave the corpse a once over to ensure all the stitches were in place, then carefully covered her with a white cloth. He placed a sheet of paper under her head and combed her hair carefully onto the paper, hoping he'd find some trace evidence. But her scalp and hair were clean.

Someone rapped on the door. "Come on in, I'm just about done," Venkath said without looking up.

"Her father is waiting outside. Are you done yet?" Lawrence said, popping his head in at the door. His expression was grim and he looked tired.

"Come in for a sec. Close the door," Venkath said, waving Lawrence over to the examining table. "We were right, the hairs were cat-hairs," he said.

"Anything else?" Lawrence asked.

"The red fibres recovered from the body appear to be nylon, she could have been strangled with a scarf or belt made from nylon," Venkath explained.

"Good work, Venkath. That's more than you had to work with for the previous cases," Lawrence said.

Venkath nodded, then looked puzzled. "But how did her parents find out so quickly about her death?"

Lawrence's expression turned sheepish. "They filed a missing person's report on Sunday morning when Alicia didn't return home from her Saturday night partying. According to her father, her friends said she had left the club with a man and they hadn't heard from her since. The officer who filed the report assumed she'd run off with a boyfriend. Until this morning."

Venkath frowned. "But that doesn't make sense, today is Monday. Yet her hair was clean and her clothes and makeup were fresh. If she'd been kidnapped she would have struggled, but her dress had no rips, her shoes no scuff marks. So where was she the rest of Sunday until her time of death?"

"Unless of course, things went wrong with the boyfriend and he attacked her, caught her off guard. Then dumped her at the car park to buy himself some time," Lawrence said.

Venkath looked thoughtfully at his cousin. "But it doesn't explain the RM1 pyramid."

"A copycat killer perhaps?" Lawrence suggested, shrugging.

"Think about it, Lawrence. The trail went cold in Penang five years ago after two murders. Only to surface again here after all this time. We're not looking for a copycat. He's back."


	2. Part 2

Officer Paul Ong stared glumly at the mountain of files on the floor. Once he was done printing out the photos and leaving them on Inspector Lawrence's desk, he had been assigned to rearrange the latter's filing cabinet. It wasn't what he had planned; he had hoped that Inspector Lawrence would have recruited him to assist in the investigation.

Although, truth be told, he had no idea what the case history was, except an inkling that they were looking for a killer who had been active in Penang, where Dr. Venkath was originally from. Someone who left a RM1 note folded into a pyramid? Who would do that, he wondered? What did it even mean?

An idea struck him suddenly. Maybe, just maybe, the earlier case files were somewhere in this mess. Feeling quite the sleuth, he removed the remaining files from the cabinet and arranged them on a pile on the floor. Then he began sorting them into two piles: solved and unsolved. He glanced at the clock. It was 12.30pm. Inspector Lawrence wouldn't be back for at least two hours, which gave him plenty of time to snoop.

By 1.30 pm, he had isolated the unsolved case files. There were only ten of them, Seremban was, after all, a tiny town. Nothing escaped the town's residents, hence criminals had nowhere to hide. He began scanning the files, putting aside local cases. The tenth file however, was an out-of-town murder that had occurred four years ago to the day in Penang.

Bingo! He began reading the Inspector's notes: "Sruthi Pillay..medical student from Kuala Pilah ..found strangled in alley behind a local nightclub at 2am...no identification...had a RM1 note folded into a pyramid tucked into her jeans back pocket. No forensic evidence on victim or at the scene...possible suspects...waiter at the restaurant, college lecturer...dead ends."

Inspector Lawrence had been called in to assist with the investigations since the girl was from Kuala Pilah, however the case remained unsolved.

He scanned the remaining files, finding nothing except some recent home break-ins and muggings. The last file however, was also unsolved case from Penang, exactly five years ago to the day. He retrieved the Sruthi Pillay case file from the sorted pile and checked the date. The second body had been discovered on January 1st, exactly one year after Sruthi's murder. His pulse picking up, he returned to the second Penang murder file. The murder victim was an Indian woman in her mid-fifties, also from Kuala Pilah. She had been identified as Vijaya Manickam.

The woman's body had been found in broad daylight, just after 10am in the neighbourhood park she went walking in every morning. She had left her house at 7am, a child cycling in the park had found the body three hours later. She had also been strangled, and no forensic evidence had been found on or around her, as in the other Penang case. An RM1 note folded into a pyramid had been found inside her mouth. Who were the victims, and was Dr. Venkath connected to them somehow, Paul wondered.

"If you're done with that, you might want to clean my desk. It hasn't been touched for weeks," Venkath stood at the door to Lawrence's office, his arms folded. His expression was unreadable.

"I was just finishing up," Paul said, but he dared not look at Venkath. Instead he tried to look busy by collecting the pile of case files from the floor and arranging them carefully back in the cabinet. It gave him a few minutes to collect himself.

"Yes, I could see that," Venkath said pointedly. "I'm here to collect my wallet, I left it on Lawrence's desk when I was in here earlier," he added. Paul turned red as a beet and handed the wallet to Venkath without a word.

"A word of advice, Paul: lock the door the next time you plan on snooping around. Today you were a little sloppy," Venkath said over his shoulder as he went out the door.

Paul looked at his retreating back speechlessly. Dr. Venkath was unlike any doctor he'd ever met. And something in the other man's eyes had told him that poking into this case would land him into trouble. But if Paul lacked the street smarts of a more experienced officer, he more than made up for it with determination. So against his better judgement, he took out his little notepad and started taking notes from the case files.

"That Ong kid was going over the old case files, wasn't he?" Inspector Lawrence said after he'd finished his meal.

Venkath raised his eyebrows. "You knew?"

"He's a rookie, hungry for a chance to work on a big case. Got a keen eye for details that one, so I asked him to do the filing to see if he'd bite," Lawrence grinned back at Venkath.

"What are you up to, L?" Venkath asked, taking a thoughtful swallow of his iced tea.

"Trying to give the kid a chance without making it too obvious to the higher-ups. Ong's from a rich family, many people here feel that he needs to 'earn his way up' by doing grunt work, but the kid has potential. If he just 'happens' to notice a clue about this case, I'll be able to bring him on board. And not that good-for-nothing Rahman my boss likes so much," Lawrence explained.

"But why this rookie in particular?"

A distant look entered Lawrence's eyes. "You're too young to remember this, but when I was twelve, my stepfather wanted me to quit school and go work in a factory. My mother was at the time working as a housekeeper and babysitter in Ong's uncle's home. When his uncle heard what my stepfather was forcing me to do, he threatened to report him and paid for the rest of my schooling. In this town, Venkath, we take care of our own."

"So you owe Ong's family. But why on earth do you have the boy doing grunt work?" Venkath looked at his cousin in puzzlement.

Lawrence smiled wryly. "Paul went against his parents' wishes and enrolled in the police academy after he returned from his studies abroad. They're hoping that I can pressure him into leaving so he'll go back and join the family business. So I do what they and the boss tell me, but I leave things lying around where he'll find them. Smart and resourceful, that one. It's only a matter of time before he brings something to this case I can't refuse," Lawrence said.

"Ok. So what now?"

"We finish up here and pay a visit to the dead girl's parents. Worst part of the job, but someone has to do it," Lawrence said.

"I'll come with you," Venkath said, waving the waiter over.

"Only if you let me do the talking. I can't have you bringing your issues into this case," Lawrence's expression was serious.

Venkath met his gaze unflinchingly. If there was one thing he wanted more than anything else, it was to catch this killer. "Whatever it takes," he said, his expression grim.


	3. Part 3

Lydia Ling, the matriarch, who only a month ago had thrown a lavish dinner party in honour of her daughter's graduation from a prestigious business school in England, was pale and silent as her husband spoke to Lawrence.

She sat in an antique wooden armchair by the window, her body taut and rigid as she looked out the window. Her only movements were from the tears rolling softly down her cheeks. She didn't respond when they entered the room or when her husband brought her a glass of water. Venkath's chest constricted in empathy for her.

"I know this is difficult, Mr. Ling, but please list all your daughter's friends names and ex-boyfriends. Every little detail helps," Lawrence said.

The creases on the older man's forehead deepened. "My daughter has...had...many friends, they were in and out of the house all the time. After returning from her studies, she spent most of her time in Kuala Lumpur. Sometimes she would stay over with her friends, but she always called to let us know where she was."

"Did she tell you where she was, the night she disappeared?" Venkath interjected, earning a mildly annoyed look from Lawrence.

Terrence Ling nodded. "She said she was going to a club with two of her friends, Boon Yee and Alice. She said she was staying over at Alice's house. Alice lives with her parents and we know them well so we weren't worried," he added sadly.

"But your daughter didn't spend the night there?" Lawrence asked.

"No, she didn't. My wife called Alice's home the next morning to ask our daughter if she was coming home for lunch and Alice's mother informed her that our daughter hadn't stayed the night there. Alice wasn't even in town, she was in Hong Kong for a week for work. We tried calling our daughter's mobile, but kept getting the voice mail. When we hadn't heard from her by the following afternoon, we filed a missing person's report with the police," Terrence explained.

"I see. What about your daughter's other friend, Boon Yee?" Venkath asked.

"She said that they were at the club until 1.00 am. Then Alicia told Boon Yee she was tired and was going home. She told Boon Yee she was spending the night at Alice's place. Boon Yee said she didn't question her because that's what my daughter usually did."

"Was your daughter close to Boon Yee and Alice?"

"Yes, they went to school and later to university together. We know their parents too, they come from good families. You are wasting time, my daughter was not the kind of girl to hide things from her parents," Terrence said impatiently.

"I understand how you feel Mr. Ling, I have a sixteen-year old daughter myself. But it's important that we get as much information as possible about your daughter and her friends so we can catch whoever did this to her," Lawrence said gently.

The older man's expression softened. "So you know what a parent must feel like. It is just very hard for us, especially for my wife. She hasn't moved from that chair since the police called about Alicia."

"We're very sorry for your loss, Mr. Ling. I understand this is a difficult time for you and your wife, but if you can think of anything that may help our investigation, please give me a call anytime," Lawrence said, handing Terrence his card.

"I will have my secretary send you the numbers you wanted. Please catch this man, Inspector." Terrence Ling said, his voice tight. "Only then will I be able to sleep."

"You'll be the first to know, I promise," Lawrence said.

"One more question Mr. Ling, did your daughter have a cat?" Venkath asked.

Terrence Ling's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Yes, she has a Siamese called Persia, why do you ask?" he said.

"A Siamese cat. Is it here?" Lawrence asked.

"Yes, it's about the house somewhere. Why is this important?" Terrence Ling looked bewildered.

"There were grey cat hairs on your daughter's dress. What colour is your cat?" Lawrence asked.

"Why, brown and white of course, just like regular Siamese cats. So you think my daughter's murderer owns a grey cat?"

"We're just investigating all possibilities. Do any of Alicia's friends have grey cats?"

"Not Boon Yee or Alice, but I don't know about her other friends. Do you think one of her friends did this to her?"

"Is there anyone you suspect may have wanted to harm her?" Lawrence asked.

"Nicholas Lim." It was Theresa Ling who had spoken. She turned her head to look at Lawrence. "Alicia broke up with him last month, and he has been pressuring her to get back together ever since. He would call her all day, follow her wherever she went. He did this, I'm sure of it," she said, her voice weary and whisper-soft. She sank back against the cushion on her chair, as if speaking had sapped all of her energy.

"How long had this been going on with the ex-boyfriend?" Lawrence asked.

"About three weeks. The final straw for us was last Wednesday night, when he showed up at our doorstep, drunk, and threw a bottle at our front door, insisting that Alicia see him. She got a restraining order against him the next morning," Terrence Ling explained.

"Did he try to contact your daughter subsequently?" Lawrence asked.

"No, he's smarter than that. But that doesn't mean he is innocent," Terrence said, his brow furrowing in distaste.

"Unfortunately, the law rules that everyone is innocent until proven guilty, Mr. Ling. If he's guilty, you can be sure he'll go to the gallows. Is there anything else you can tell us about him, Mr. Ling?"

"He is training to be a veterinary doctor, I believe he's an intern with the government-run veterinary clinic in town. He is originally from Ipoh, I think," the older man said.

"Thank you, Mr. Ling, we'll take it from here," Lawrence said, flipping his notebook shut.

Venkath glanced over to the sofa, where Mrs. Ling now lay fast asleep. There was something strange about the woman, even for one who had just lost her only child, he thought. But he couldn't put his finger on precisely what he found so unnerving about her.


	4. Part 4

During the drive home, they discussed the details of the case. They both agreed that the ex-boyfriend was their main (and only) suspect, given cat hairs had been found on the body and that he worked at a veterinary clinic. Then there was his alleged obsession with her.

"There's still about an hour before office hours end, let's pay a visit to Nicholas Lim," Lawrence said. Venkath wisely nodded his assent. He still believed that they were on the lookout for a serial killer, as much as his cousin believed otherwise.

The government veterinary clinic was a white brick building badly in need of a coat of paint. The gate was rusty and had a broken hinge that rattled every time the gate was opened and closed. However, the grounds of the clinic were clean and the grass cut, which made the premises appear almost welcoming to patrons and their human owners. Inside, the clinic was white from floor to ceiling and had a strong medicinal smell about it. 

It was a small clinic with two examining rooms and a small waiting area for people and their pets. Dusty old airline magazines were strewn lazily on a wicker and glass table in a corner. A water cooler stood next to it.

"Hello, how may I help you?" A wiry young man wearing thick-rimmed glasses appeared from one of the examining rooms. He wore a white collared t-shirt and faded blue jeans. On his feet a were pair of shiny brown loafers.

"We're here to see Nicholas Lim," Lawrence held up his police badge.

The young man smiled, an oily stretch of the lips that struck the men as smarmy. "Yes, that's me. What is this regarding?" he said politely, but he didn't fool Lawrence. This was their man.

"I'm Inspector Lawrence from the Kuala Pilah branch and this is Dr. Venkath Das, the medical examiner at Kuala Pilah Hospital. We're here to ask you some questions concerning Alicia Ling's death," he said.

The oily smile disappeared and Nicholas Lim stared at them in shock, his face almost as white as his shirt.

"You didn't know?" Lawrence asked him.

"No, wh—what happened?" Nicholas Lim said, finally managing to speak.

"She was found strangled this morning in the Kinta car park. When was the last time you saw her?" Lawrence asked.

"Sunday morning. I had been having—problems—and Alicia offered to help. We met for brunch in Bangsar, at a Spanish bistro we used to frequent when we were dating. Alicia left around two in the afternoon," Nicholas replied.

"What kind of problems were you having?" Lawrence asked, raising an eyebrow. He had a feeling that they were of the illegal kind.

The young man's face flamed red. "I-I would rather not say," he stammered slightly.

Lawrence's expression darkened. He closed his notebook and looked steadily at Nicholas. "I don't think you appreciate the seriousness of the situation, Mr. Lim. There's a dead girl who had a restraining order against you. Things aren't exactly looking up for you right now," he said.

Nicholas paled. He ran a hand nervously through his hair. "All right, I'll co-operate. I asked Alicia to lend me some money. She said she would help me, for old times' sake," he said.

"Why was Alicia lending you money after slapping a restraining order on you?" Venkath asked.

"The restraining order was her father's idea. Alicia and I were still friends, although we had broken up. I admit I tried to convince her to get back together, but her father forbade her to see me again. She chose her family, but I didn't resent her for it," Nicholas explained.

"Because you wanted her help?" Lawrence interjected.

"It wasn't like that," Nicholas explained. "Alicia felt guilty because the restraining order led to my scholarship being cancelled. I didn't have enough money to complete my final year at university. I can barely make ends meet as it is with two jobs. She said she felt it was her fault and said she would lend me the RM8,000 I needed. I promised I would pay her back after graduating," he added.

"Where was Alicia getting the money from?" Lawrence asked.

"From her trust fund. Tell me, why would I hurt Alicia if she was helping me?" Nicholas asked, his eyes wide, pleading almost.

Lawrence and Venkath looked at each other. The young man was either innocent or a convincing actor. In either case, they didn't have evidence to prove he had anything to do with Alicia's death.

"Besides, you shouldn't be speaking to me, Alicia's current boyfriend could probably tell you more," Nicholas added, not a little unhappily.

"Who was she dating?" Venkath looked surprised.

"I don't know. She wouldn't tell me anything beyond that she was dating a new guy. But she didn't know that I'd seen them together once at the Purple Room, a club in KL. I was there with some friends, I'm sure they didn't see me," Nicholas said.

"Did you get a good look at him?" Lawrence asked.

"I tried to, but it was dark and smoky in the club. He was tall, around six feet and a bit thin, not her usual type. But I did notice one thing: he had a tattoo on his left shoulder."

"A tattoo? Could you describe it?"

"I think it was a phoenix. Yes, I'm sure it was," Nicholas said.

"Are you sure?" Lawrence said, staring intently at Nicholas' face. But the other man looked him right in the eye as he spoke.

"Yes. I wasn't drinking, if that's what you're asking," Nicholas replied, looking a little miffed.

"Yes, it was. Thank you for your time, here's my card in case you remember anything else that's helpful," Lawrence said, handing the young man his card.

Nicholas took it and pocketed it with a little nod. His expression was unreadable, but Lawrence and Venkath didn't miss the trembling of his hand as he took the card.

"But one thing doesn't add up," Venkath said, as Lawrence pulled out of the clinic driveway.

"What's that?" Lawrence looked a little annoyed. He had always resented Venkath's uncanny ability to read his mind.

"Nicholas' age. The murders in Penang and KL were a while back, he would have been barely a teenager when he began killing," Venkath said.

"Or he could've read about it in the newspapers back then, the details were all there, right down to the RM 1 note. Psychopaths today are much younger than what they used to be," Lawrence said a little defensively. Venkath was probably right, but Lawrence didn't like his ideas shot down by a civilian, even if he was his cousin.

"If he did kill the women in Penang and KL, he would've been around eighteen then. Hardly the age that killers are mature, leaving behind no trace evidence or DNA. Plus he's a veterinary assistant; most psychopaths start off by killing or torturing animals as children or teens. I'm telling you cuz, you have the wrong man," Venkath said, ignoring the tone of Lawrence's voice.

"It doesn't matter whether he's innocent or not, right now we have no proof. A case against him would hold no water. Which leaves us at zero," Lawrence sighed.


	5. Part 5

Paul watched as droplets of water rolled slowly down his chest. He had been standing in the bath tub, staring down at the bottom of the tub, for what seemed like hours. The shower was turned off. There was no one home but him... it would be so easy to...

The phone rang suddenly, making him almost jump. He grabbed a towel off the railing and wrapped it around his waist. It kept ringing. "I'm coming," he muttered as he strode across the bedroom floor to the wall-mounted phone.

"What?" he barked into the receiver, angry at being jarred so rudely out of his moment of solitude. He had worked hard to get numb, and now the pain came rushing back again. All because of one stupid phone call.

"What do you mean 'what'? Have you forgotten our date for tonight?" a female voice snapped back.

"Who is this, again?" Paul asked, hoping he sounded as unbothered as he felt. He grimaced as he ran his hand through his hair. It must have been the broad from the night before, though he'd been so hung over that morning that he couldn't remember much.

"It's Kim," the female caller said, sounding annoyed.

Paul stared at the receiver for a few seconds before hanging up. Relief and self-loathing warred within his chest as he walked to the bed and lay on it.

A soft touch on his left shoulder startled him. "When did you get this done? It's beautiful," Alicia smiled as she ran her fingers down his tattoo. A shiver went through him and he reached out to her. His hands sank into nothing but air.

A solitary tear ran down his right cheek as he pounded the bed in frustration. She was gone to him now. Forever. All because of one stupid mistake.

He glanced nervously at the cell phone on the bedside table. Should he call the inspector? What would he say? "Hello, I found the body and I just happen to be her boyfriend. And by the way, it's my fault she's lying in the morgue." He gave a short, sardonic laugh. It sounded false even to his own ears.

No, calling his superiors or anyone at work for the matter would be the final nail in his coffin. He wondered uneasily if he should even go to work the next day. He was fairly sure he wasn't on the suspect list, else he would be at the station, this very moment. He had to lie low, and not show any interest in the case.

"So what are you going to do, Paul?" he said aloud to himself. He rubbed the space between his brows thoughtfully. There was only one thing to do. Tired, his back bent like an old man's, he got up slowly from the bed and opened the window. He climbed out onto the ledge and sat there, his legs dangling.

It was drizzling now, he felt droplets of rain wet his body. His room was on the second floor of his parent's split-level home. Not high enough for certain death, but enough to cause serious injury or end his miserable existence if he jumped head first.

His mother would be terribly upset of course. At least Alicia was going to have an open-casket funeral; if he jumped, he'd go head first just to be sure. That would devastate his mother, not being able to look at her son the way she last remembered him. No, he couldn't do that to his parents, death was out of the question, though it would be easier than having to live with memories and ghosts.

He had to do something more than brooding within the four walls of his room.

An idea struck him. He strode over to the closet and pulled out a black t-shirt. He grabbed a pair of dark-wash blue jeans from the laundry basket and pulled it on. He stuffed his car keys and wallet into his jeans pockets and quietly opened the door.

The hallway was dark and empty. He disarmed the home alarm system and sneaked out the front door, closing it quietly behind him. His car was parked outside the house, he could leave relatively undisturbed.

He arrived at the Kinta car park at a quarter past two. He parked his car outside the building and climbed the stairs to the second level, using his torchlight to find his way. Visibility at the second level was better as the lights were on. He turned his torchlight off and walked over to the spot where he'd found Alicia's body.

"Now, if I were a killer, where would I dump the murder weapon?" he muttered to himself as he scanned the floors of the parking lots for a clue, any clue really.

A light went off in his head suddenly. The stairwell! Neither of them had thought to search the stairwell, and if he was right, it was exactly what Alicia's killer had counted on. He went with his gut and began walking to the stairwell. He shone his flashlight down the stairs. Something silver glinted at the very bottom. It looked like a knife or maybe even scissors, it was too far down to tell. But if he was lucky, it could belong to the killer.

He fished around in his pockets for a handkerchief but came up empty. "Shoot," he said aloud, remembering that he'd rushed out without one. There was a box of tissues in the car; that would have to do. He began jogging towards his car when a blinding flash of light stopped him in his tracks.

Paul held up a hand to shield his eyes and realised with horror that it was a car. Before he could move, it came into contact with his knees, sending him flying through the air. He heard a loud crunch as his body fell in a crumpled heap at one end of the parking lot. A shock of pain ran through his entire body, forcing a groan from his lips. He tried to move his legs, but there was only pain. He closed his eyes, biting down hard on his lower lip.

He heard footsteps somewhere ahead of him running down the stairs and then up again. A car door slammed and the engine roared gently as his assailant drove away. He forced himself to open his eyes, making out a "NW" as the car drove away.

The world went black.


	6. Part 6

He was in the club with Alicia again. Smoke filled his nostrils, making his eyes water slightly. There were three teenagers, two girls and a boy, body slamming on the dance floor. Disco lights hung from the black ceiling. In fact the entire interior was black, even the waitresses and bartender wore black. Why on earth then was this place called The Purple Room?

Alicia was hanging onto his left arm, a habit that he both loved and resented. It made him feel wanted by the most popular girl from school, yet there was a childish possessiveness in her touch that made him wonder sometimes if she was really with him or he was a trophy. With Alicia, he could never tell.

"Paul. Paul, are you awake?" Someone shook his right shoulder but when he turned around there wasn't anyone there. He put his hand over Alicia's and continued talking to her. Suddenly, her voice seemed far away.

"Speak up, Alicia. I can't hear you over this noise," he shouted. But Alicia continued whispering and her face...her face began fading away. He reached out for her but she was so far away. He reached out one more time and felt a sharp pain in his arm.

"Paul, wake up. You're in the hospital." He recognised the voice. It was the inspector. But what was he doing at The Purple Room?

Slowly, Paul opened his eyes. The ceiling white lights made him wince and shut his eyes again. He heard the inspector call his name again. This time, he opened his eyes, shielding them with his right hand.

He looked around him. He was in a white room, with white walls and a white ceiling. Inspector Lawrence stood before him, with a grave expression on his face.

"How did you find me?" Paul asked.

Lawrence sighed. "We paid a visit to Nicholas Lim. He told us about the night you met at the club in KL, I knew it was you because of your tattoo. After that, I had a tail kept on you. Why didn't you come forward? You almost got yourself killed last night."

"So what happens now?" Paul asked. He looked down at himself. His left arm was in a cast, and so were both his legs. But why wasn't his free hand cuffed to the bed, like they did to all prisoners?

"There's an officer outside to ensure you don't try to bolt. But first, I want to hear it from you. Why didn't you tell us you were dating Alicia?"

Paul shifted a little and grimaced at the pain that shot through his left arm. "I couldn't. Alicia and I were dating secretly. She enjoyed keeping secrets, I went along with it because I loved her."

"Did you kill her?" Lawrence looked at him sternly.

"No! How could I, I loved her!" Paul said, his voice rising.

"Calm down, Paul. You have to admit it looks suspicious, you found her body and then you went back to the crime scene. A jury would deduce it was to destroy evidence," Lawrence pointed out.

"I went back to look for evidence. I saw something that had fallen down the stairwell, something metallic, maybe a pair of scissors. But before I could get it, I was run over," Paul explained, his tone a little calmer.

The boy seemed to be telling the truth, but Lawrence couldn't be sure. Just like he still wasn't sure about Nicholas Lim. Still, he couldn't have run himself over so there had to be some truth in what he said.

"I want to believe you, really I do. Did you get a look at who ran you over?" Lawrence asked.

"No, whoever it was, hit me from behind. But I did get a look at the licence plate before I lost consciousness, the first two letters were "NW"," Paul said.

"'NW'...can you remember the make of the car?" Lawrence asked, as he jotted it down.

"It happened so fast. That was all I remembered before I passed out," Paul said.

"Ok, it's not much, but I'll see what I can do. In the meantime, try to get some rest," Lawrence said a little more kindly.

"Sir, how long before I can go back to work?" Paul asked, bracing himself inwardly.

Lawrence looked thoughtfully at him before speaking. "The doctor says you have to be in the hospital for at least a month. Besides, you're currently suspended from duty pending the investigation," he said.

Paul nodded. "I'm not surprised. I'm sorry for not telling you, sir. But I don't regret going back there, I'm sure I would have found something."

"Get some rest, some of the boys from the station will be visiting you after lunch. I have a murder to solve," Lawrence replied.

On his way back to the station, Lawrence stopped by the hospital to speak to Venkath. "Things don't look good for the kid right now," he said, adding more sugar to his tea. The hospital cafeteria was quiet, save for the occasional clang of spatula meeting wok in the kitchen.

"True, but I believe him and I know you do too. I'm not going to say I told you so, but the lab results came back. The red fibres I found on the dead girl's dress came from a nylon ribbon. I'll bet that if you have Nicholas and Paul's homes searched, you're not going to find anything there. They're both innocent," Venkath said.

"You still believe it's the same killer from Penang and KL," Lawrence shook his head incredulously at his cousin.

"Yes. Neither Nicholas nor Paul are the right age, for one. I checked with Nicholas' boss at the clinic. He was attending a seminar in KL on Sunday morning, so he couldn't have killed Alicia. As for Paul, well you may want to ask him where he was on Sunday, though I doubt he's your guy," Venkath said.

"You checked up on Nicholas without informing me first? I swear Venkath, sometimes you don't know where to draw the line between police work and being a doctor. You're lucky Nicholas isn't calling my boss about being harassed by the police. I told you—" His cell phone rang suddenly, interrupting his tirade.

"What? When? I'll be there in ten minutes," Lawrence said, hanging up. He muttered a few curses under his breath.

"What is it?" Venkath asked, frowning.

"There's been another murder. Venkath, they think it's your wife."


	7. Part 7

Venkath stared at the body on the examining table. Her skin was a shade paler than its usual olive colour. The red ligature marks around her neck stood out against the fair skin, not as fair as Alicia's, but a colour he remembered and still loved. Shoba's eyes were closed, but her lips were slightly apart in a silent 'o', just like Alicia's had been. Something cold clenched at his heart.

"Venkath, it's time to go. Let Dr. Chin do his job," Lawrence placed his hand gently on his cousin's shoulder.

Venkath nodded wordlessly and allowed Lawrence to lead him out of the mortuary. A volcano of emotions coursed through him. Anger at the killer for doing this to the only woman he had ever loved. Anger at himself for not being able to stop it. But most of all, a deep shame he couldn't shake. Shame that he felt triumphant that Lawrence now could no longer deny they were dealing with a serial killer; one that was taunting Venkath with this killing spree.

"This can't be happening," Venkath finally said when they were back at the station. His estranged wife had been in town and hadn't even told him she was here. And now she was dead, lying in a morgue like some lab rat for this Dr. Chin to cut her open. He had an image of a surgical knife slicing her chest open, sending a wave of nausea over him.

Lawrence said nothing, sensing his cousin's need to absorb what had happened.

Venkath had loved Shoba very much, even after she had left him four years ago. It had started with the case in KL. Venkath had an indiscretion with one of his interns, who turned up dead outside a club in KL. Somehow Shoba found out, but they managed to save their marriage. A year later, Venkath's mother-in-law was murdered while walking in the park. Venkath was assisting the Penang police with the case, but none of the police's leads turned up anything. One evening after work, Venkath had found all his wife's things gone and a note on the fridge that said: "I can't pretend anymore. Goodbye." Heartbroken, he decided to leave Penang and start life afresh in Seremban without her.

That hadn't worked out as planned. For whatever reason, the killer had resurfaced after four years to torment Venkath again.

"Did you know she was back in town?" Lawrence asked, breaking the silence.

Venkath shook his head. "No, we haven't spoken in four years. I heard from mutual friends that she sometimes visits her old friends here, but they never tell me more than that. She certainly does...didn't," he corrected himself.

"Okay. What I'll need is a list of friends she has here, I'll need to visit them to find out more about what happened," Lawrence said.

"There are only two—Saras and Mala, her former schoolmates," Venkath said, scribbling on a piece of paper.

"Give me the addresses, I'll see to this. You'd better go home and get some rest, I know you haven't slept much since Alicia's murder," Lawrence said.

"No, I'm coming with you. Besides, they're more likely to open up to me than to you," Venkath said, his mouth set in a thin, determined line. Lawrence knew there was no point in arguing.

They dropped by the home of Mala —Shoba's oldest friend— at around 6pm. They were greeted at the door by a thin, bespectacled woman dressed in a purple and white polka-dot blouse and black slacks. There were fine lines around her mouth and eyes, although she couldn't be older than thirty-five. Her eyes were hidden by huge bug-eyed spectacles, darting nervously around the room every few seconds. Her nose meanwhile was pointy and a little crooked, giving her an overall appearance of a giant mosquito.

"Will this take long? I have a cake in the oven for a friend's housewarming party," Mala Rani asked, looking nervously at a clock decorated with ceramic birds that hung on one wall.

"We'll try and make this as brief as possible Ms. Rani," Lawrence reassured her. "Perhaps you could start by telling us the last time you saw Mrs. Venkath," he added.

"Why? Has anything happened to Shoba?" The woman's eyes grew wide with concern.

"I'm sorry to tell you that your friend was killed last night. The body was found in the park this morning. Do you have any idea why she was in the park at that time of the night?" Lawrence asked.

Mala's eyes teared up and she put a hand up to her forehead. "I think I need to sit down," she said brokenly. She wiped away a tear that ran down her cheek.

"We were at a charity dinner in the Royal Hotel in town last night, Shoba had only checked into the hotel yesterday afternoon. She left early, after a long talk with Mrs. Ling. Mrs. Ling must have said something to upset her. Shoba seemed distressed after that conversation and left early, at around 8.30pm," Mala explained.

"Did she say where she was going?" Venkath asked.

"No, she said she was tired, so we assumed she went up to her room," Mala said.

"Who's 'we'?" Lawrence asked.

"Why, Saras and myself. We hosted the dinner to raise funds for a local orphanage," she said.

"Did you hear from Shoba after she left?" Lawrence asked. Venkath remained silent, barely listening. His mind was full of cotton, making the voices around him seem far away and irrelevant. He forced his attention back to the present.

"She called me around 10pm, saying that she felt peaceful. She said she'd tell me everything in the morning. We spoke for about ten minutes, mostly about the dinner, then I went to bed," Mala said.

"We found an ATM slip and a receipt from the local florist Simply Floral in her purse. Did she purchase any flowers yesterday?" Lawrence asked.

"Oh yes, she ordered the centrepiece for the VIP table. It was lovely, a nice bouquet of red roses. Shoba was always thoughtful and generous like that," Mala said, wiping away another tear. She began crying softly.

A visit to the victim's other friend Saras didn't turn up anything. Her story wasn't any different; Shoba had checked into the hotel the afternoon before and attended the dinner at night, then left early.

At the Ling residence, they were greeted at the door by Mrs. Ling, who didn't appear surprised to see them. "Come in, I've been expecting you," she said simply.

She ushered them into the living room. "I know you're here to ask me about my conversation with your late wife, Mr. Das. Ask me anything," she said.

"How did you know my wife has passed away?" Venkath said, frowning in puzzlement.

Her lips formed a small smile. "This is a small town. News travels fast, Dr. Das. Please accept my condolences," she said, looking directly at him. Again, Venkath felt that twinge of something unsettling about the woman.

"I didn't know that you knew Shoba," Venkath said.

"I didn't," Mrs. Ling replied calmly. The two men raised their eyebrows quizzically at each other. She continued: "I only met her at the charity dinner last night. She expressed her condolences over my daughter's death and then asked me a very strange question."

"What was it?" Lawrence asked.

"She wanted to know if my daughter had received red roses from anyone the week before she died. I told her that Alicia had received many bouquets, for her birthday was the previous week. Shoba appeared very distressed suddenly and said she was feeling tired. She said she was going to get some air and then retire for the night," Mrs. Ling said.

"Did Alicia receive red roses from anyone?" Venkath asked.

"Yes, her friend Boon Yee, for her birthday. But what does it have to do with anything?" she asked, looking puzzled.

"Four years ago, my mother in law was murdered in the park, just like my wife. She received a bouquet of red roses from her best friend for her birthday, which was a week before she was murdered. It can't be a coincidence. Where is Boon Yee right now?" Venkath asked.

Mrs. Ling looked as if she'd been slapped. "You mean this has happened before? Why didn't the police catch the killer before he did this to my daughter?"

"The Penang police didn't find any evidence at the crime scene, Mrs. Ling. The trail ran cold four years ago so they gave up looking for the killer. But it appears as if he or she has resurfaced," Lawrence said. "We must speak to your daughter's friend Boon Yee. She may know something," he added urgently.

"I'll go get her, she's upstairs watching TV," Mrs. Ling said.

A few minutes later, she reappeared with a bespectacled young lady by her side. The girl was petite, nearly a foot shorter than Mrs. Ling and had serious eyes. She wore a white t-shirt that said "I'm With Stupid" across the front and black track pants. She looked at them curiously.

"Boon Yee, this is Inspector Lawrence and Dr. Venkath Das. They have a few questions about Alicia," Mrs. Ling said.

The girl looked surprised. "But I already told Officer Ong everything I know," she said.

"Officer Paul Ong spoke to you? When?" Lawrence asked.

"He called me, we know each other through Alicia. He was dating her, you know," Boon Yee said.

Out of the corner his eye, Lawrence saw Mrs. Ling raise an eyebrow. He ignored it and continued: "Mrs. Ling mentioned that you had a bouquet of red roses sent to Alicia for her birthday about a week ago," he said.

"Yes, so?" the girl shrugged her shoulders.

"Where did you order the flowers from?"

"Oh, I ordered them online through my cousin's website, Simply Floral. How is this relevant, Inspector?"

"Everything is relevant, Miss Boon Yee. When was the last time you saw Alicia alive?" Lawrence asked.

"On her birthday last Thursday. We, as in Alice, Alicia and I, went out for dinner at Alicia's favourite Japanese restaurant in KL. But I did speak to her on the phone from Ipoh on Saturday morning, she seemed happy and said she was going with Paul to The Purple Room that night," the girl said.

"When did you return from Ipoh?" Lawrence asked.

"I hurried back on Monday evening as soon as Mrs. Ling told me about what had happened to Alicia. Alice was on the bus with me too, she's also from Ipoh," she explained.

"Do you know where Alicia was on Sunday?" Lawrence asked, jotting down what she had said.

Boon Yee hesitated, looking nervous. She looked at Mrs. Ling sideways before speaking. "She said that she was meeting Nicholas for brunch in Bangsar. He wanted to borrow money from her and she said okay. She was supposed to have returned here to Seremban by evening to have tea with me and Alice, but she never showed up. That's when I called Mrs. Ling," she said in a rush.

"That good- for- nothing borrowed money from my daughter? How could you keep this a secret from me, Boon Yee?" Mrs. Ling said, looking disappointed.

"I'm sorry, aunty. But she made Alice and me promise not to tell you she was still friends with him. She took the money from her savings and lent it to him so he could complete his studies," she explained placatingly.

Mrs. Ling's face had gone red with anger. She and opened her mouth to speak, but Lawrence cut her off before she could. "Yes, we know about that. But Nicholas said the last time he saw her was at the brunch, which ended at around 2pm. We still don't know where Alicia was for the rest of Sunday," he said. Or how Shoba ended up dead in the park, he thought to himself. The murders were somehow linked, he was sure of it now. But how?


	8. Part 8

"Death was definitely due to strangulation; she died sometime between 11.00pm and 11.30pm yesterday," Dr. Chin told Venkath. "The murder weapon was a fabric of some kind measuring about half an inch thick, just like in the Alicia Ling case," he added.

"Were there red fibres on the body?" Venkath asked.

"Yes, there were some embedded in the ligature wounds, but I found none elsewhere on the body. She didn't have any defensive wounds either. But she did have an RM1 note folded into a pyramid inside her purse. Her identification card was missing too."

"Thanks for the update Dr. Chin. Please call me if you find anything else," Venkath said before hanging up.

He looked around the hotel room. A police officer was dusting the door knob for fingerprints, while another was searching the bathroom. Shoba's things were scattered on the bed, just the way she had left them. It had always amazed him how meticulously put together she had always looked, yet how steadfastly untidy she had been with her belongings.

"Sir, we found this taped to the underside of the bathroom sink," said the officer who had been checking the bathroom. He handed a slightly damp white envelope to Lawrence.

"Here, it's addressed to you," Lawrence said, extending the envelope to Venkath. Venkath put on a pair of plastic gloves handed to him by one of the officers and took the envelope. His name was written on the front. The handwriting was Shoba's. He opened the envelope and to his surprise, there was a key inside. There was no note inside.

"What's it for?" Lawrence asked.

"It's the key to a bank safety deposit box," Venkath said, raising an eyebrow.

I don't know for sure, but I think it was our joint account with Paybank. She must have known something and left this for me in case anything happened to her," Venkath shook his head sadly.

"Come on Venkath, let's go find out who did this," Lawrence said, placing his hand on Venkath's shoulder.

The bank manager was a short, portly man of about fifty, with a slight squint. A worried look crossed his pug-like face when Lawrence showed him his police badge.

"Good afternoon, Inspector. How may I help you?"

"Hello, Danny. We're here to look for a safety deposit box by one Shoba Manickam," Lawrence said.

"Certainly, Inspector. Give me a minute while I check our system," the manager said.

The manager tapped away at the computer for a few minutes; agonising minutes for Venkath, who felt that too much time had already been wasted. "Could you hurry up?" he said impatiently.

"We don't have a Shoba Manickam in our system, but we do have a Shoba Das," the manager said a little crossly.

"Yes, that's her. She must have used her married name. I'm her husband," Venkath said.

"My condolences to you sir," the manager looked sympathetic.

The manager escorted Venkath and Lawrence into the safety deposit vault, where he opened locker no. 5605. Venkath's heart pounded as the manager opened the box. What was in it?

The box was empty save for a single roll of red ribbon. Lawrence put on a pair of gloves and picked it up. The ends of the ribbon had frayed, leaking fibres that looked very much like the red fibres that were found on Alicia and Shoba's bodies, he thought.

"Looks like she found the murder weapon," he said.

Venkath looked at his cousin, realisation dawning on his face.

"What is it?" Lawrence asked.

"I know who killed them," Venkath said grimly.


	9. Part 9

It was dark when they arrived at the state veterinary clinic. Somewhere in the distance an owl hooted, breaking the silence of the warm night. Lawrence's car was alone in the car park.

"How do you know he'll show up?" Lawrence asked.

"He will. He knows I have evidence now. Trust me, he'll be here," Venkath said.

"I still don't like the idea of leaving you here with him. The kid's a psychopath."

"It's the only way. I can't get a confession out of him unless he knows I'm alone. I'll be fine," Venkath assured Lawrence. The trouble was, he wasn't sure this was going to work. This wasn't the movies; this was an intelligent and meticulous killer. Things could go badly for Venkath very quickly even if he was careful.

Lawrence sighed. He knew there was no arguing with his cousin once his mind was set on something. "All right, here's how it's going to go down; you get in there and get a confession and the moment something feels off, get the hell out of there. I can't afford to take any chances."

"I hear you, I'll be alright. Don't worry, cuz," Venkath smiled weakly at him.

Lawrence didn't smile back. "You know this is a bad idea."

"Yes, but it's the only way to stop him from killing again," Venkath said. He watched Lawrence drive away. As soon as the car was out of sight, he began walking towards the clinic.

The front door to the clinic was open. Venkath stepped inside; it was dark and unwelcoming. In the air lingered a faint odour of antiseptic, along with the smell of dogs.

"Hello? Is anyone in here?" he called out. His voice echoed throughout the corridor, fading away into silence.

It was then he noticed a light at the far end of the clinic. Someone was in one of the examining rooms. He walked up to the door.

Inside, he saw Nicholas Lim seated in a chair next to a grey medicine cabinet. He manufactured a thin stretch of the lips, more a snarl than a smile when he saw Venkath.

"Where's your police sidekick, doc?" he asked.

"I'm here alone," Venkath replied.

"What can I do for you on this fine evening?" Nicholas' smile grew wider, but there was nothing friendly about it. Just hatred that contorted his features, making him look far older than his years.

"You know why I'm here. I want answers."

Nicholas laughed, a thin, ugly sound that turned Venkath's blood cold. But Venkath ignored it. "I know you killed Shoba and the other women. It's over, Nicholas."

The younger man laughed again, then his face took on a nasty, twisted look. "You've got nothing on me and you know it."

Venkath smiled at him. "You messed up, you left some evidence without knowing it," he said.

"You're lying."

"For a while there, you had us on a wild goose chase by framing Paul. You covered your tracks so well, but what you didn't count on was Shoba stealing a roll of red ribbon from your little florist. When it comes back from the lab, they're going to find your prints and sweat on it. There's no escape this time, Nicholas."

"That doesn't prove anything and you know it. I work there, it's part of my job to use ribbons for flower baskets and bouquets. It doesn't mean squat," Nicholas snarled, rising from his chair.

It was then that Venkath noticed Nicholas holding a long strip of red ribbon in his right hand. The latter took a step towards him.

"What I want to know is why you did it, even psychos like you have their reasons," Venkath said, not moving despite Nicholas taking another step towards him. The latter's eyes were like little glass beads, cold and empty as they glared at Venkath.

Nicholas threw back his head and laughed again. "You're wearing a wire and you expect me to confess to something I didn't do?"

Venkath reached inside his shirt and removed the recorder and microphone taped to his chest. He laid it carefully on the examining table. He turned the digital recorder off. "There, no wires, no recorders. Now, tell me the truth."

Nicholas still stared at him suspiciously but his ego got the better of him. "That's better. Now, ask me anything."

"Why did you do it? Why did you kill Shoba and the other women?" Venkath asked.

"Because she bloody started it! She fired me just because I was in love with her. She broke my heart and ruined my medical career. She should have just stayed in Penang and moved on, given us both another chance. Instead she laughed at me. No one laughs at Nicholas Lim," he said menacingly.

"And the others?" Venkath asked, taking a step back. A bead of sweat started rolling down his back from the effort of keeping his emotions in check. Anger was slowly bubbling in him.

"Collateral damage," Nicholas said, shrugging his shoulders. He took another step towards Venkath. "How did you know it was me?"

"The first time I suspected you was when you said you had two jobs. Seven years ago, one of Shoba's medical interns fell in love with her. He would send her flowers with a red ribbon. She got sick of it and had the person fired. When I saw the roll of red ribbon Shoba left me, I realised it was you. Your second job was at Simply Floral, the florist that Shoba had bought flowers from for the charity dinner."

"Very good, Dr. Venkath. You should have been a police officer, like your cousin," Nicholas sneered.

"You didn't have to murder Shoba, if it was me you were after. We were both separated. You could have tried wooing her again, why did you have to kill her?"

"Because she was back here looking for you!" Nicholas slammed his fist on the examining table. "I left her a note pretending to be you to meet me in the park at eleven. She told me she was back here to reconcile with you. I killed for her and she broke my heart all over again. The next thing I knew, she was lying dead in my arms." A tear rolled down Nicholas' left cheek, but his eyes were cold.

"Why my mother-in-law and Sruthi, the student you killed in KL? You didn't even know them," Venkath prodded further.

Nicholas took another step towards Venkath. He began winding the ribbon tautly around his wrists. He's trying to intimidate me, Venkath thought to himself. Best if I play along.

"That skinny bitch was having an affair with you, which upset Shoba. So I got rid of her. But then your stupid mother-in-law tried to get you and Shoba back together, she was an easy kill," he said, smiling coldly at Venkath. "Just like you're going to be." He lunged towards Venkath.


	10. Part 10

Venkath had anticipated the move and stepped aside, sending Nicholas crashing into the wall. The younger man was on his feet in seconds, ready to attack Venkath again. However, Venkath had already run out of the examining room and towards the front door. 

As soon as he reached the door, Nicholas pounced on him again, this time knocking them both to the floor. He managed to get on top of Venkath and put his bare hands around his neck, his face twisted with rage.

"You're finished," he sputtered, tightening his hold on Venkath's neck. Venkath pushed at Nicholas with all his strength, but the younger man was too strong. It was getting harder to breathe by the second, even harder to struggle.

"Get off him, or I'll shoot!" Lawrence stood in the doorway, his gun aimed directly at Nicholas.

Nicholas ignored him and continued to strangle Venkath, whose eyes had rolled back into his head. His whole body had gone limp. A shot rang out and Nicholas screamed in pain, clutching at his right leg. He rolled to the side, groaning, while Lawrence handcuffed him. Against his better judgement, Lawrence kicked Nicholas' leg. The latter cursed him, screaming louder this time.

Lawrence rushed to Venkath's side and felt his pulse. He heaved a huge sigh of relief when he felt the weak, erratic rhythm of his cousin's pulse. He was alive, he had arrived just in time. "Hang in there, cousin, help is on the way," he said to his unconscious cousin. He radioed the police car outside and asked them to call an ambulance. There was still one more call to make.

"Mr. Ling? It's Inspector Lawrence. We've caught the man who killed your daughter."

There was a pause on the other end and then Mr. Ling heaved a huge sigh of relief. "Thank you, thank you so much, Inspector. God bless you and your team," he said.

Lawrence hung up the phone and looked down at Venkath, who was regaining consciousness. He groaned a few times before opening his eyes. Lawrence was looking down at him, shaking his head reprovingly at his cousin.

Venkath tried to get up off the floor but his strength failed him. His neck hurt and his head felt heavy, but he'd live, he thought to himself. He took the hand that Lawrence extended to him and managed to get to his feet. He leaned against Lawrence, unsteadily.

"You had me really scared there, you twit," Lawrence said, helping Venkath towards the door. Nicholas was still lying on the floor, groaning in pain. Venkath shot him an angry glare.

"Leave the scumbag alone, he's not worth it," Lawrence said. "Besides, I'm not letting you risk your neck trying to play hero again," he said.

Venkath leaned heavily on his cousin's arm, his legs still felt wobbly and the colour hadn't quite returned to his face. Yet he managed to hobble along, waiting desperately for when they would be out in the outdoors again. The clinic was stuffy, he needed more air.

They had just stepped out of the clinic into the fresh air when Venkath stopped suddenly in his tracks. The thought hit him like a ton of bricks: what about the RM1 pyramid? Why hadn't Nicholas said anything about it?

"Lawrence, we've got to go back to the clinic. I need to ask Nicholas about the pyramid note, I'm not convinced he carried out the murders by himself. Something feels off," Venkath said, sitting down on the grass to catch his breath.

"You are joking, right? That boy tried to kill you and you want to go back in there? I honestly couldn't care if he bleeds to death, he has made you suffer enough." Lawrence looked incredulously at his cousin.

"No, trust me on this. He's not telling us everything, something doesn't feel right."

"Venkath, it's time to let go. I think..."

A loud crash from within the clinic interrupted Lawrence mid-sentence. Then they heard screams of pain. Smoke began wafting out the front door of the clinic. The two men saw a dark figure running out the back door of the clinic and disappear into the undergrowth behind it.

"Use the car radio to call for backup, Venkath. I'm going after him," Lawrence said, placing his car keys in Venkath's right hand. Without another word, he took off in pursuit of the killer, his gun drawn.

"Wait, Lawrence..." Venkath began, but his cousin was already out of earshot. He dragged himself to his feet and walked the few feet to his cousin's car. He was surprised to find the car door unlocked.

"Hello, this is Dr. Venkath Das. Is anyone there?" he spoke into the police radio.

The line was dead. He fumbled for the light switch in the car and flicked it on. The radio cord had been cut. Whoever the killer was, he had been able to break into the car while they had been in the clinic.

Refusing to give up, he opened the glove compartment to look for his cousin's mobile phone. Lawrence had a habit of leaving his phone there when he was working. He hoped against hope that the damn thing was charged.

A cold shiver ran up his spine. Instead of the phone, he found a photo of himself and Shoba, with a RM1 note clipped to it. It had been taken on their wedding day by Lawrence himself. Under the photo was a bundle of what looked like notes, tied together by a single red, nylon ribbon.

A click by his right ear and the feel of cold metal against his temple sent another shiver down Venkath's spine.

"It was you," he said simply.

Lawrence gave a short laugh. "Yes, it was me, it was always me," he said. "Get into the driver's seat and handcuff yourself to the steering wheel."

Venkath hesitated. "Tell me why you did it."

"I'm not joking. Handcuff yourself to the wheel now, or you'll die without knowing why," Lawrence barked.

Venkath didn't move. "Shoba, the others...they didn't have defensive wounds because they knew you. And you betrayed them," he said through clenched teeth.

"I've no time to play games, Venkath. I'll do it myself."

As Lawrence leaned towards Venkath, he decided to act. He jabbed his fingers in Lawrence's solar plexus, setting the gun off. The bullet whizzed past Venkath's right ear and shattered the driver's side window.

The gun had fallen under Venkath's seat during the struggle. His ears still hurt from the gunshot sound, he could barely focus as he bent over to fumble for the gun. Just as he had a grip on the gun, something hard came into contact with his right temple. The gun slid off his lap and onto the floor.

Venkath slumped against the steering wheel. His head felt as if it'd been smashed in; he could feel the blood from the wound trickling down the side of his face. He closed his eyes and braced himself for the gunshot that would end his life.

There was no time to think, to reflect or contemplate his life. In seconds, he would be dead, and Lawrence a free man. And there was nothing Venkath could do about it.

Seconds passed, but nothing happened. He dragged his eyes open, and saw that Lawrence was gone. Venkath tried to move, but realised to his horror that the other man had cuffed his right hand to the steering wheel. His left hand was free, but he didn't have the strength to lift it. The driver's side door was ajar and the car keys were gone.

Somewhere in the distance he heard a dog barking. He wondered if anyone would hear him if he managed to honk the car horn. He lifted his left hand slowly and wedged it between chest and the wheel, and applied pressure with his hand to sound the horn.

A feeble honk was all he could manage, the throbbing in his head was unbearable now and his sight was slowly fading. He thought he heard another bark, but he couldn't be sure. It was getting more difficult to breathe now, his eyes were drooping shut. How blissful it would be to just drift away, he thought. It was the last thing he remembered before he lost consciousness.


	11. Part 11

It was still dark when he regained consciousness. Venkath's head hurt horribly. His shirt was soaked with sweat and likely blood, how much of the latter he couldn't be sure. It was a miracle he was alive, but for how much longer, he wondered?

He didn't want to take any chances. He was alive and that mattered. If Lawrence decided to come back and finish the job, that would be the end of him. Ignoring the throbbing in his head, he leaned back a little so he could press the car horn with his free hand. This time, he applied all his strength to it.

Almost immediately, he heard a dog barking in the distance. He pressed again, harder this time. The sound of the car horn was deafening, but he persisted. More barking, then silence.

"Damn it," he cursed to himself. He waited for a few minutes to regain his strength, then pressed the horn again a few times.

The barking started again, he swore this time it was louder. But he'd worn himself out; the throbbing in his head had worsened and a wave of nausea washed over him. He slumped against the steering wheel and closed his eyes.

He was just about to lose consciousness when he felt someone shaking his right shoulder. "Mister, are you all right?"

He felt a cold, wet nose in his right palm and dragged his eyes open. It was a dog, a German Shepherd, and it was wagging its tail at him. Someone was shaking his shoulder, but he couldn't lift his head up to look at the person. He closed his eyes again.

"Hey, no, stay with us. Wake up, mister!" And then he felt something cold and wet on the right side of his face.

"Mister, you have to stay awake. I've called for an ambulance, help is on the way."

Venkath groaned. "Thank you," he said hoarsely, dragging his eyes open again with much effort. The dog's head was on his lap and it whimpered a little when he looked at it.

Venkath tried to lift his head to thank the dog's owner and to his surprise, his eyes met the concerned gaze of a young woman. She held a leash attached to the dog's collar in one hand, and what looked to him like a wet towel in the other.

"She likes you," she said, with a broad smile. She leaned towards Venkath and put the towel against his head wound. He flinched at the contact, but she either didn't notice or pretended not to. She maintained pressure on the wound.

"I have to keep pressure on the wound, else you'll bleed to death," she said firmly, when Venkath winced again. He leaned back against the seat, with her help.

"Wh...who are you?" he wheezed, his voice unrecognisable to his own ears.

"Priya, and this is Dot," she said simply.

"Thank you...I..."

"No, save your energy. The ambulance will be here soon, just focus on staying awake," she said kindly, but firmly. The dog licked his hand and whimpered again.

"Nice dog," he managed to say.

"Yes, she's great. I rescued her from the SPCA last month. She's about a year old, and a big softie," Priya said with a smile.

"And you?"

Priya bit back a snarky comment. There, there Priya, this is not the time for sarcasm, she told herself.

"What about me?"

Venkath realised that he had crossed some invisible line and decided it best not to antagonise his rescuer. "Nothing."

An awkward silence passed between them for a few minutes, only to be replaced by the distant sirens of an ambulance. It wasn't long before Venkath was bundled into a stretcher by paramedics, while Priya answered questions from the police officer who had shown up alongside the ambulance.

Truth be told, Priya didn't have much to say, not knowing who Venkath was or what he had been doing there. Something told her he would tell her about it, provided he survived all that blood loss. She looked over at Venkath lying in the stretcher. His eyes were closed and an oxygen mask covered his face.

"Is he going to be all right?" she asked the paramedic who had walked over to speak to the police officer, whose name was Sergeant Rehman. Sergeant Rehman, a short but stocky man in his early 50s, prodded the paramedic on his shoulder when he seemed hesitant to respond.

"He has lost a lot of blood, miss. He may need surgery for his head wound, if scans show internal bleeding," the young paramedic finally replied. Worry creased his forehead. Priya reckoned he must be in his early twenties. He looked badly shaken up.

"Thank you for letting me know. I hope he gets better soon," she said abruptly to the paramedic. Something cold had stabbed at her at the thought of Venkath dying, and she was upset with herself.

Dot pulled at her leash, bringing Priya back to the present. "I have to go," she told Office Rehman.

"Do you need a lift somewhere?" the officer asked her kindly. If he had seen the change in her expression, he pretended he hadn't.

"No, I am staying at the farm homestay nearby. It is just a 10 minute walk from here," she said.

She gave a slight tug on Dot's leash and the dog whined. "Come on, Dot. We have to leave," she said firmly, as she started walking in the opposite direction.

She noticed that Officer Rehman didn't try to stop her or make her go to the police station for an official statement, which was fine by her. She started walking faster, before he could change his mind.

As she walked away, she heard the ambulance drive off, sirens wailing. Her lower lip trembled, but she didn't turn to look back. Life and death were part of life, she should have gotten used to that by now. But she hadn't.

Priya's brother Ruben was home when she and Dot arrived at the farm. He was preparing breakfast in the kitchen, when she walked in, her clothes covered in blood.

"My God, Priya! What happened?" He turned off the stove and placed the saucepan he had been holding back on it. He opened his mouth again to speak, his face pale with worry.

"I am fine, I found an accident victim not far from here. The ambulance has taken him to the hospital. I need to go shower, then lie down. Get Dot some breakfast please, I won't be having any."

Ruben nodded understandingly. "You go rest, I'll take care of her," he said, squeezing her hand comfortingly. She managed a wan smile and bent down to hug Dot.

"You did good girl," she said, kissing the warm fur on Dot's head. She hugged the dog again, more for herself than the dog.


	12. Part 12

Venkath stripped down to his boxers and looked at himself in the mirror. After a month in the hospital, it was time for him to go home. He still had the occasional headache from his head injury, however Dr. Krishen, the neurologist who had treated him, assured him that they would fade away in time.

He however, was sceptical. Although he was not a neurosurgeon, he knew enough about the human anatomy to understand that the brain was the most mysterious of organs. The CAT scans showed no lasting damage on his brain, but Dr. Krishen warned him to take it easy all the same. He was to show up at the hospital in two weeks for a check-up, and thereafter come in for a monthly check-up to ensure that he made a full recovery.

As he looked at his reflection in the mirror, he wondered where the years had gone. His arms and torso were flabby, making him look older than his 38 years. Too much food and too little exercise had resulted in poor self-care. Although he didn't smoke or drink, his weakness was hawker-style food and banana leaf rice meals.

"I wonder what Priya would think if she saw me undressed," he wondered silently to himself. Would she think him old? The young woman couldn't be more than 25 or 26 years old and he doubted she would even think of him in a sexual way. In fact, she had probably forgotten all about him and gone on with her life. His shoulders sagged at the thought.

"Come on, Venkath. Get a grip," he said out loud, straightening his shoulders and back. He should be mourning his dead wife, not lusting after a sweet young thing so soon after the former's death. Guilt pricked at his conscience as he recalled Shoba's body lying on the morgue.

He should have been enraged, angry enough to hunt down Lawrence himself. However, a tiny part of him was glad that Lawrence had managed to escape. The truth was, Venkath was afraid of him. When he'd seen that wild lunacy in his cousin's eyes, right before the blow came, he had ceased to recognise Lawrence. And that frightened him. The thought that someone so familiar to him was now a complete stranger and had tried to kill him.

As Venkath got dressed, a wave of shame washed over him. He was terrified of going home, of being alone and being attacked in his sleep. What if Lawrence came back to finish the job? What if he sent someone else to do the dirty deed? The feeling of powerlessness was one that Venkath did not want to feel ever again, yet it was always there.

Throughout the month-long stay in the hospital, he had had nightmares, almost always with Lawrence in it. And blood, there was always blood. Sometimes he dreamed of Shoba, sometimes of his late mother-in-law. Always, he'd wake up in a cold sweat, shaking with fear. He was traumatised, he knew, and he wished he didn't have to deal with it alone.

A knock on his room door startled him out of his reverie. "Come in," he called out, glad that he had finished getting dressed. The door opened and in came one of the senior nurses, wheeling Paul Ong inside the room.

"I heard you were going home today, so I thought I'd drop by," Paul smiled cheerfully at him. Venkath couldn't help but smile back despite his sour mood, although it was more of a thin stretch of the lips than a genuine smile.

Paul's eyebrows furrowed with concern. "Can you leave us for about ten minutes?" he asked the nurse. The nurse nodded and smiled kindly at Venkath and Paul before leaving the room.

It wasn't the first time Paul had been to visit Venkath, they were in the same hospital after all. It was the same public hospital Venkath worked at, and the care was good. Paul could afford a private hospital, but he wasn't the type to show off his family's wealth. This is what his employers had seen fit at the time, and he had no regrets. The doctors and nurses were kind and attentive, although the physical therapy sessions were pure torture.

"What's up, Venkath? You don't seem happy that you're being discharged," Paul said, looking steadily at him. They had become friends in the past couple of weeks, bonded by a common enemy and had talked at length about what had happened to both of them.

However, Paul knew that Venkath was holding back something, and he had a feeling that Venkath needed to express it but couldn't. He waited for Venkath to respond.

"No, it's fine, I'm fine. Just feeling very tired, I didn't sleep much last night," he lied.

"Nightmares?"

Venkath did a double take. How on earth did Paul know? He hadn't told anyone about the nightmares, but then again he had learned during the past month that the young police officer had an uncanny ability to read people. And he was doing it to Venkath this time, which he didn't like one bit.

"No, just restlessness. I should be fine tonight, once I am home," he lied again. God, he was getting good at this. His conscience pricked at having to lie to his new friend, however there were some demons Venkath was not prepared to face just yet. So he changed the topic.

"When do you get to go home, Paul?"

Paul shrugged. "They said another month and thereafter two more months of physical therapy. I should be able to get back to work in January."

"Are you looking forward to it?"

"As much as you're looking forward to going home to that empty house of yours."

"I'm a big boy, Paul. But enough about me, I thought you loved your job."

Paul shook his head. "I did. But the accident gave me a new perspective on life. I only became a police officer because my parents didn't want me to. It's not a good enough reason to keep going."

"What will you do then?"

Paul looked thoughtful. "I'm thinking of studying the law, to become a criminal lawyer. I think I'll be able to do some good on that side of the fence."

"I think that's a great idea, Paul. I've no doubt you will be a fantastic lawyer."

A knock on the door interrupted their conversation. It was the same nurse, but she wasn't alone.

Behind her stood Priya, holding a large fruit basket in her arms. She hesitated when she saw Paul. She hadn't expected that Venkath would be having a visitor.

"It's ok, come on in. I was just about to leave," Paul said, giving Venkath a surreptitious wink. Venkath started to feel annoyance, but then remembered that Paul's back was turned to Priya, hence she would not have seen Paul's expression.

"Hi, I'm Paul," the younger man said, extending a hand to Priya, who shook it somewhat reluctantly. She was uncomfortable being there at all, and the cheerful young man didn't help one bit.

"Priya," she said automatically, though her tone was polite enough. The nurse wheeled Paul out of the room and shut the door behind them.

"Hello, Priya. I am surprised to see you here. How did you even find me?" Venkath said. He wondered if Paul had any hand in this.

"Sergeant Rahim gave me your name and told me which hospital they were sending you to. I would have come to visit earlier, but I had some personal matters to attend to," she said. Smooth Priya, she thought to herself, feeling almost proud at her own composure. He didn't need to know the truth.

Her words sounded rehearsed, but Venkath knew better than to pry. Although he had been half unconscious at the time, he had remembered every word they had exchanged a month ago. He noticed that her long, flowing hair was cut shorter, up to her shoulders. God, she was beautiful and he wanted so much to tell her that.

"Thanks for coming to visit, I'm actually on my way to reception. They're letting me go home today," he said.

"That's good. I'm happy to hear that," she said and this time, she sounded sincere. His heart skipped a beat.

"Would you like to join me for a coffee at the hospital cafeteria? It's not great coffee but I don't feel like going home just yet," he blurted out before he could change his mind.

She looked taken aback, and hesitated. He almost breathed a sigh of relief when she finally said: "Sure, just lead the way."

They made a short stop at the reception for Venkath to fill out the discharge form and then to the pharmacy, where he collected his medications.

An hour later, they were seated in the cafeteria. Venkath ordered a mug of local coffee for himself and a teh tarik for Priya at her request. After the waiter had left, he turned to Priya.

"I didn't expect to see you here today," he said.

"I didn't expect to show up here either," she replied, meeting his gaze.

"I'm sorry if that came out the wrong way. I tried asking about you after I recovered from my injuries, but no one here seemed to have heard of you," he said carefully.

"That's because I'm not from around here," Priya said. "I'm staying here for a few months with my brother Rohit. He runs a homestay not far from the veterinary clinic, or what's left of the clinic."

"I see. Where are you from?"

"Why do you want to know?" Priya looked at him steadily.

He couldn't help but raise his eyebrows at the expressionless look on her face. She clearly didn't want to share anything about herself. Yet she was sitting here with him, when she could have left after he got discharged. That gave him a glimmer of hope. He decided to change tack.

"All right, I won't pry any further. But I hope you'll let me buy you lunch during your stay here so I may thank you properly for saving my life," he said.

Priya looked taken aback. She hadn't expected this. She had thought her coldness would put him off; that he would leave her alone. But he had gone and invited her to lunch. If she said yes, he'd surely get more information out of her. If she declined, she'd seem like a total bitch.

"I'll think about it and get back to you, Dr. Venkath," she finally said, with a small shrug of her shoulders.

"Please, call me Venkath." He smiled at her and her heart skipped a beat.

Priya, you fool, get a hold of yourself. Don't go getting any romantic notions just because he's trying to charm you, she silently chided herself.

"Great, here's my card." He pushed his business card across the table towards her.

"Thank you," she said, without looking at him. She picked it up hesitantly, careful not to touch his fingers, and put it away in a pocket in her handbag.

Venkath started to say something, but was interrupted by a loud buzzing sound from his shirt pocket.

He looked at the phone screen, and paled. It was a number he recognised all too well, that of Mrs. Ling.

"I'm sorry, I have to take this call," he said, rising from the table and walking out of the cafeteria.

"Dr. Venkath, have you left the hospital yet?" Mrs. Ling sounded worried.

"Not yet, they discharged me an hour ago. How can I help you, Mrs. Ling?"

"I need to meet with you, if you are well enough. I have some information that can help you catch Alicia's killer," the woman said calmly.

"The veterinary assistant died in the clinic fire, Mrs. Ling. And Inspector Lawrence is suspected to have left the country," he said, hoping he sounded less cowardly than he felt. Because he was shit scared at the thought of even seeing Lawrence again.

"I knew he had left the country even before you did, Dr. Venkath. Money brings with it resources and my sources have told me he is hiding in Hat Yai."

"I recommend that you tell the police, Mrs. Ling. I have been taken off the case, for health reasons," he lied.

"I see. So you refuse to help me catch my daughter's murderer?" Her voice took on a cold note.

"I'm sorry, I can't. My hands are tied. I have to go now, goodbye Mrs. Ling." The words left his lips in an awkward rush. He hung up.

He walked back into the cafeteria, unsurprised to find that Priya was gone. His business card lay face down on the table. He picked it up and put it in his pocket, checking a sigh. The world seemed just a little lonelier suddenly without her presence.

Venkath downed the last dregs of his cold coffee, emotions warring within him. Anger, fear and disappointment whirled together in a heady mix that caused him to feel dizzy. He put his head in his hands and closed his eyes. Get a grip, Venkath. He needed to get over this fear and do it soon. For his own sake.

The problem was, he had no clue where to begin.


	13. Part 13

She was standing by Priya's bedside again, dressed in a long black dress. Only this time, she was surrounded by a halo of orange light. She didn't smile, but extended her arms, as if seeking a hug.

She mouthed some words that Priya could not understand. "Tell me properly, Sruthi. I don't understand," Priya said. But the light began to fade and with it, her sister's apparition.

Priya sat up in bed, shaking all over. She pounded her pillow in frustration. When she had released her anger, grief overcame her. She began sobbing into her pillow, hating the situation her sister had put her in. She hated that she could not help her sister, or herself.

Three months ago, she would have reached for the bottle of wine that always stood on her bedside table. The urge to drink was strong, but Priya had no car. No means of driving into town to buy a beer from a 7-Eleven or raiding her brother's non-existent liquor cabinet. Ruben didn't drink, he hated the stuff because of what it had done to Priya.

Ruben had taken her in because she had wanted to quit drinking and more than anything, she didn't want to disappoint him, to quash his faith in her. He was the only family she had left, and she wanted to ensure that their relationship remained strong.

Whining at her door, followed by a soft knock, startled her out of her reverie. Remembering that she had gone to sleep naked, she grabbed the robe that lay on the floor and put it on. She took a deep breath before opening the door.

Ruben stood there, worry creasing his forehead. Dot was by his side and she immediately pushed past him and sidled close to Priya, licking her hand. Priya bent down and patted the dog's head.

"She scratched at my bedroom door until I woke up and then brought me here. Hey, you've been crying. What's wrong?" He put his arm around Priya's shoulders, looking even more worried.

"I saw her again. She was trying to tell me something, but I couldn't understand her," she said, shaking her head sadly. A fresh tear rolled down her right cheek.

Ruben put his arms around his older sister and hugged her. "It's the third night this week this has happened. Are you sure you don't want to consult someone? I know a guy..."

"I don't need to see a shrink, Ruben. I need to find her killer," Priya said, with resolve in her voice and expression.

Ruben looked alarmed. "No, this is not your job, it's for the police. You're all I have left, Priya. I can't lose you too," he said, hugging her tight.

"You won't, I promise. But I can't go on like this, dreaming of her every night. It's tearing me up inside, Ruben."

"I know, Priya. We'll find a solution together. Until then, don't do anything stupid," he said, pulling away from the hug and looking her in the eye. He was almost afraid she would say no.

To his surprise, she nodded in agreement. "I promise," she said, although in her heart she knew it was a lie.

So did Ruben, but he chose not to believe it, for now. "Come downstairs, I'll make you some hot chocolate. It will help you sleep," he said.

"Sounds good," Priya said, forcing a smile. If she played her cards right with him, she'd be able to do what she had planned.


	14. Part 14

The restaurant was an elaborate, yet dated affair. The chairs were draped in light pink cloth with ribbon ties at the back, surrounding large round tables covered with faded red tablecloths. The windows had drapes that matched the fabric draped on the chairs and the waiters and waitresses wore similar pink-themed uniforms.

Old Chinese songs from the 1960s played in the background (Shoba had enjoyed them although she hadn't understood a word of Mandarin). The memory of her made him feel guilty suddenly. She had been dead barely two months and he was already lusting after Priya.

Of course, they had been separated for years before that, but it didn't make him feel less guilty. He fingered the top collar button on his shirt somewhat nervously, wondering if he should back out of lunch and go home.

He looked at his watch again. He had been waiting for fifteen minutes, but Venkath was patient by nature. Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that Priya had stood him up.

In all honesty, he had been more than a little shocked when she had rung his mobile on Monday afternoon. He was taking a nap when the phone rang. He recognised her voice immediately, and couldn't hide the pleasure in his voice at hearing from her.

She had noted down his phone number it seemed, and was willing to meet him for lunch if he was available. He snapped up the chance and told her he was free on Wednesday, which brought him to the present.

She walked into the room and time seemed to stand still for Venkath. She wore a V-necked, light peach- coloured dress and sandals, while a small handbag was slung over her right shoulder. She looked absolutely wonderful, and Venkath couldn't take his eyes off her.

"Sorry I'm late, I had to wait for my brother to get done with work. He dropped me off before going to the market," she said, briefly shaking the hand he offered.

"Oh yes, he runs the homestay. Does he get many guests at this time of the year?"

"It's the start of Christmas break now, so yeah he gets quite a few visitors from abroad. Mostly travelers who want a quiet place, good hospitality and local food," she replied.

Venkath felt somewhat heartened by her response. She appeared to be more relaxed than she had been the last time he'd seen her and while a part of him was curious why her manner towards him had changed, another part of him felt ridiculously happy that it had.

"You look nice, Priya. But to be honest, I thought you were not going to show up," he finally said.

"Thank you, to be honest, I wasn't sure I was going to either."

"Then why did you?"

"Because I had to," she replied, looking steadily at him.

 

"Had to? I hope you didn't think I put pressure on you to meet with me," Venkath said.

"What makes you think this is about you?" She asked him, her tone challenging. She didn't take her eyes of his face. There was something cold in her gaze that sent a chill down his spine.

It was at that very moment that Venkath noticed the thin gold chain she wore around her neck. From it hung a small heart-shaped locket with the letter S engraved on it.

His heart started pounding and he suddenly found it difficult to breathe. Memories started swimming in his head. Memories of a girl who'd worn the exact same locket, one that he had had custom-made for her. The affair that had nearly cost him his marriage to Shoba. No, no it couldn't be...

He feel the blood leave his face and he unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. How had Priya gotten hold of the locket? He opened his mouth to speak, then clamped it shut again, because he already knew the answer.

"Have you figured it out yet, Venkath? What I am doing here today?" Priya gave him a tight, hard smile that wasn't really a smile at all.

"You're Sruthi's sister, " he said weakly, not daring to meet her eyes.

"Well done, Dr. Das. Yes, she was my older sister. She was your medical intern in Penang, and she died because of you," she said softly. Her gaze was so cold and flinty it made him flinch.

"If you knew who I was, why didn't you leave me to die?" He finally managed to speak.

"I didn't, at the time. By the time I had, you were in the hospital. So I bided my time, waiting for you to get better so I could finally confront you."

"What do you want from me? Revenge?"

"I want an apology. And that's not all, you are going to help me catch her killer."

"Nicholas is dead, isn't that good enough?"

Priya shook her head. "You and I both know Inspector Lawrence was the brains, Nicholas was just the pawn who was in love with your late wife. I want Lawrence to pay for what he did to my sister and you are going to help me."

Venkath paled. "How do you know all this? Only the police have that kind of information," he said, half in disbelief.

"It's what I do, Dr. Das. I'm a crime reporter for the KL Herald and I know people who can get me the information I want."

"I'm sorry your sister died, I will always regret that happened. But I can't help you, that is a job for the police," Venkath said.

"Police? They couldn't catch the killer a decade ago and they can't catch him now. You owe me and my family Venkath, you owe it to Sruthi," she said in a low voice.

Venkath shook his head. "No, you can't ask this of me. He tried to kill me, his own flesh and blood. I can't, I just can't."

"Then we are done here, Dr. Das. Goodbye," she said abruptly as she rose from her chair. Her face was red with anger. She walked out of the restaurant without another word.

Venkath watched her go, feeling a mixture of guilt and an overwhelming sense of loss. A part of him wanted to go after her and tell her he'd changed his mind, but the fear in him was stronger. He couldn't do what she wanted of him. Not now, not ever.


	15. Part 15

It had only been a month and a half since he'd been here, but Lawrence Lourdes was already sick of Hat Yai's Walking Street.

Despite it being early October and not quite tourist season, seasonality didn't seem to apply to Walking Street, which was only slightly less crowded during the day as it was at night.

For many, the area was a feast for the senses, but for Lawrence the noise and people were overwhelming. He'd always hated crowds, but that was precisely the reason he'd chosen Hat Yai--- it was easy to get lost among the crowds. He felt almost like a tourist here, in his collared t-shirt, shorts and running shoes.

He'd shaved his head before he'd arrived, never going out without his sunglasses and Manchester United cap. Not because he wanted to disguise himself but more because he wanted to look different from his old self. He'd come here to blend in with the other tourists, but after more than a month, he still felt isolated. Hat Yai and its occupants were colourful, but this didn't feel like home to him.

Take for instance the food. The street was lined on either side with food stalls selling all types of street food. Meats of every kind on skewers — some of these meats he couldn't recognise. They were sold on their own or served with rice and vegetables — back home they called this 'mixed rice' or chap fun. Other stalls sold Thai mangoes and Thai durians. Yet more sold cheap China and locally-made souvenirs.

As for the tourists, well, there were Asians, mostly from Southeast Asia, as well as Westerners constantly crowding the long street. After the quietness of a small town like Kuala Pilah,it was the noise that got to him the most. Stall vendors loudly pitching their food and other wares in Thai, mixed with the multi-lingual chatter of the tourists. The noise overwhelmed his senses, made him want to retreat to the solitude of his tiny, cheap hotel room.

After leaving Venkath to die, he'd spared no time in leaving Malaysian shores. He'd taken a bus to Butterworth, Penang and then another bus to Hat Yai to avoid being traced. He'd gotten across the Thai border without any trouble, thanks to the fake identity card and passport. Being in the police force had its uses, chief of which was the ability to arm-twist criminals into helping one disappear.

"How much for this chicken rice?" He asked the wiry Thai woman stall-keeper in front of him. There weren't as many people at this stall compared to the one a few stalls away, which meant he'd have to wait less longer for his food. It also possibly meant the chicken rice at this one wasn't as good as the competition, but he didn't care. He just wanted sustenance; he had plans to leave Hat Yai that night.

"65 baht," the lady said, eyeing him warily. She didn't like the look of this dark-skinned, middle-aged tourist with the shaved head and cap who kept his sunglasses on, even at night. She'd seen him often here these past few weeks and wondered what he was doing here for so long, so far from home. Nothing good, she was sure of it.

"Sure, here you go." Lawrence passed her the exact amount and collected his container of food. The next stall was selling durians and freshly cut mangoes, which he'd loved eating since he was a child. Why not? They would help kill some of my homesickness, he thought.

"I would like half a kg of mangoes," a female voice—a Malaysian female voice no less— disrupted his introspections. He stole a glance at the woman next to him, not surprised that she was young and attractive. She was fairly tall for an Indian girl, about five feet seven or so and tanned.

She wore a cream coloured hat, likely to protect herself from the sun. She also looked classier than other tourists with her white Bering watch on her left wrist and long, sky-blue cotton maxi dress. She wasn't wearing any jewellery from what he could tell. He approved.

He watched as the young woman paid and walked away with her purchase. As she walked away, he heard the soft clink on the ground. It looked like a plastic tag of some sort. He walked to it and picked it up, surprised to find that it was indeed a tag...an employee tag in a plastic holder.

There was a picture of the young woman on the tag, along with her name Priyanka Pillay. The company name said The Kuala Lumpur Herald. So, she was a journalist! The late Sruthi Pillay had a younger sister, he recalled. This was no coincidence.

He let her walk a few metres ahead before he started to follow her. She walked further up the street, eating the freshly cut mangoes as if she hadn't a care in the world. Her pace was fairly regular, which made it easier for him to keep up with her. Apparently she hadn't recognised him, or had she? How on earth had she even found him?

Beads of sweat started to break out on his forehead as he considered the possibilities. Maybe she had ties to the higher-ups at the police force. It was likely she wasn't alone. She may not even be a journalist at all, but an undercover officer with the Special Branch. He had to get rid of her and do it soon.

Priya had discreet dropped the tag from her purse and had felt somewhat victorious when Lawrence had picked it up and started following her. She decided that she'd mess with his mind a little by walking into a nearby hair salon. If his plan was to get hold of her, she was not going to make it easy for him.

She tried to ignore her rapidly beating heart. Yes, Priya was scared, but she had a small vial of pepper spray hanging on a silver chain around her neck and a Swiss army knife in her waist pouch if things got out of hand. She had also taken self defense classes a few months ago, although she wondered a little uneasily if she could handle a seasoned killer by herself.Clearly, she had not thought this out as well as she'd hoped.

At the hair salon, she purchased a small bottle of anti-frizz serum, paid and then left. As she exited the salon, she quickly looked around, unsurprised to find that Lawrence was nowhere in sight. So, he was waiting somewhere nearby, likely in the small alley next to the salon, she thought.

Priya took a deep breath and walked into the small alley. It was narrow and smelly, with a large dumpster in the middle. She checked behind the dumpster, knife in hand, but the alley was empty. She drew in a huge breath of relief and decided she'd hide behind the dumpster and wait.

Before she could take another step, something hard hit her right hand from behind, knocking the knife to the ground. "Ow! What the—?" A strong hand clamped her mouth with a cloth of some kind, while another had snaked around her body, holding her firmly against her perpetrator.

As Priya's world began to dim, she thought she saw Lawrence walking past the entrance of the alley, food in hand.


	16. Part 16

He pulled up about a 100 metres away from the front gate and just sat in his car, waiting. The honest truth? Venkath was scared out of his wits. Scared because of what he felt for Priya was deeper than what he'd ever felt for Shoba, despite the years they'd shared. Scared because he was going against his common sense to get entangled in her search for Lawrence.

Yet, here he was, heart pounding and palms sweaty. Parked outside her brother's homestay-style rehabilitation clinic for alcoholics. The centre had no sign but it hadn't been difficult to find. Kuala Pilah was a small town, where everyone poked their nose in everyone else's business. When Ruben had quietly bought the late Dr. Ratnam's house and turned into a private rehabilitation centre, no one had taken notice, it seemed.

However, even Venkath, who kept mostly to himself outside of work, had heard about Ruben and his private rehabilitation clinic. All thanks to his nurse Emmeline, who knew everything about everyone in town. Ruben was in his early 20s and had an older sister Priya who was a reporter back in Kuala Lumpur. Emmeline gave him the details when he'd returned to work.

Venkath had done some homework of his own by making a few phone calls. He'd begun by ringing the KL Herald, where Priya said she worked. He asked for the news editor and surprisingly, was put through to one KS Lee, a gruff-sounding man. All Lee would tell Venkath was that she was on a three-month leave of absence from work and understandably so.

Which left Venkath here, in front of the clinic, without the guts to park his car and walk up to the front gate.

A knock on his passenger side window made him jump in his seat. He looked over to see a young Indian man at the window, dressed in a white polo t-shirt and jeans. The man appeared to be holding a leash. Venkath heard a dog whimpering. Dot!

Venkath took a deep breath and turned the key in the ignition, and the car engine went quiet. He stepped out of the car and locked it. The young man came over to his side of the car and sure enough, Dot whimpered again and pulled at the leash, eagerly wagging her tail at Venkath. He reached out and patted her head and she licked his hand.

"Hi, you must be Ruben," he said nervously, and extended his free hand to the other man.

"Hello, Dr. Das," he said simply, unsmilingly.

"Please, call me Venkath," he replied, feeling even more awkward. Goddamn you Venkath, he cursed himself silently.

The young man nodded and was silent for a few seconds. He finally said: "Come on, let's go inside."

The two men and Dot walked through the front gate into a small, neat garden with flowers and fruit trees. Venkath saw a small vegetable patch in a corner of the garden and a swing at the other end of the garden.

The sight relaxed him and by the time he had settled into the sofa in the living room, he felt more at ease. He watched as Ruben unleashed Dot and she immediately trotted over to a large basket nearby and lay down there, proceeding to gnaw on a rawhide bone and to ignore them completely.

Ruben turned on the ceiling fan and sat down in an armchair opposite Venkath. "I suppose you're here to see my sister," he said.

Venkath nodded. "I owe her an apology. She asked me to help her with something, but I couldn't do it at the time. I think I can now," he said, the words coming out in a rush.

Ruben raised an eyebrow. "Really? You want to help Priya catch your cousin Lawrence, a killer on the run? You know we blame you for what happened to our older sister, don't you?"

Venkath's breath caught in his throat. He shouldn't be surprised that Priya was still angry with him, but to hear it again from Ruben was a double blow. Yet he forced the words out: "Yes, I do. If I could undo everything I did in the past, I would. I know I can't, but please let me help you both now."

"You're too late, Priya's gone after him herself. She left in the middle of the night two nights ago while I was asleep. And she hasn't answered her phone since yesterday evening. I've booked an evening flight to Chiang Mai today. I'm not prepared to lose another sister," Ruben said.

Venkath looked at him in alarm. What if something had happened to Priya? He would never forgive himself if she got hurt. "Let me go with you, Ruben. I think I can be of help," he said.

Ruben looked at him thoughtfully and finally said. "Okay, but we do things on my terms. We find her, bring her home and after that I want you to stay away from her. She's been through enough as it is," he said firmly.

Venkath's heart sank, but he nodded. "I promise I will leave her alone," he said.


	17. Part 17

Priya woke up to sunlight shining in her eyes. She instinctively lifted her arms to shield her eyes from the brightness, and was surprised to find that she couldn't move her left arm. It had been handcuffed to the bed post, which caused a wave of anger to rise within her.

"What the—" she sputtered angrily, pulling at the handcuff with her free hand, but to no avail. Resistance was futile, it seemed. The Star Trek meme would have made her smile if she wasn't so furious.

"Glad that you're awake, Priyanka. You were unconscious for four hours, I was starting to get worried."

Priya looked up, and raised her eyebrows. "You're the last person I'd expected to kidnap me," she said pointedly to Mrs. Ling, who was sitting on the edge of her bed.

"I wouldn't call it kidnapping, exactly. It was necessary to save your life and prevent you from jeopardising the investigation." The older woman was dressed in a maroon blouse and dark brown pants and her long hair was pulled back into a bun.

"Investigation? You're Special Branch, aren't you?" Priya looked steadily at Mrs. Ling.

Mrs. Ling sighed. "Yes, I knew I wouldn't be able to hide that from you, eventually. But things are now dire, and I need your help. It's the only way we'll be able to catch Lawrence."

"So you needed my help so much, you knocked me unconscious and handcuffed me to this bed?" Priya felt a slow burn of satisfaction when she saw the other woman wince in response.

"As if you would have listened to me otherwise! You were going to get yourself killed by going after Lawrence on your own," Mrs. Ling shook her head at the younger woman.

"Probably. But that was my choice and you took it away from me," Priya set her chin in a stubborn tilt.

"Hmm, you've got guts, that's why I had to handcuff you to the bed. I was afraid you'd run away and jeopardise all I've worked for for more than a decade," Mrs. Ling replied.

"You can release me now, I'm not going to run," Priya said, hoping she sounded convincing. Of course, she would run the first chance she got. For all she knew, Mrs. Ling was not a Special Branch officer and was in cahoots with Lawrence.

"Not yet, Priya. We're waiting for them to arrive," Mrs. Ling replied, with a small smile.

"Them?"

"Your brother Ruben and Dr. Venkath are on their way here. I sent Ruben a text an hour ago to meet us here."

"What?! Why are you getting my brother and that man involved in this? This is not Ruben's fight, it's mine," Priya spluttered, yanking uselessly at the handcuffs again. Her wrist was sore, which irritated her further.

"So he hasn't told you?" Mrs. Ling looked surprised.

"Ruben? Told me what, exactly?"

"Your brother is one of our key people, Priyanka. He has been working with the Special Branch for five years now. The rehab clinic has just been a front, to protect his family members and friends. To protect you, Priyanka."

"No, you're lying. Ruben would never keep secrets from me," Priyanka, throwing Mrs. Ling an incredulous look.

"You know it's true, I think you've always known deep down that he's more than what he says he is. How else could you have stayed in journalism, despite your drinking problem? He always ensured your job, and you, were safe."

Priya sank back against the pillows, shocked beyond words. Ruben had lied to her for five years! She sighed. It was simply too much for her to take in right now.

Mrs. Ling rose from her spot and walked over to Priya's side. She put her arm around Priya's shoulders, and gently squeezed her left shoulder. "There, there, Priyanka. Don't be mad at Ruben, he was only doing his job and trying to protect you." Her voice was soothing and calming, reminding Priya suddenly of her dead sister Shruti, who had always looked out for her.

"Thank you," Priya said simply. She had a lot to process right now, and so little time to do so. She smiled gratefully at Mrs. Ling and the older woman squeezed her shoulder again.

The sound of a phone ringing broke the silence. Mrs. Ling walked over to the hotel room phone and picked up the receiver. "Yes, she's here, she's safe. We'll see you in half an hour, then."

"They've arrived at the airport Priya, and are on their way to this hotel. Now, I am going to unlock the handcuffs, but you have to promise me that you won't try to escape. We're so close to catching him, we can't afford to botch things up," she said, her tone all businesslike again.

"Got it, and no, I won't try to escape. I want Lawrence caught as much as you do," Priya said quietly but firmly. She really did mean it.

Mrs. Ling nodded and proceeded to unlock the cuffs. Priya rubbed her sore wrist and slowly rose from the bed. She stretched her arms above her head and her legs.

Priya walked over to the phone to grab the notepad and pencil that lay next to it. "I have a plan," she said.


	18. Part 18

The doorbell rang twice before Mrs. Ling answered it. “Ready?” she asked Priya, her hand on the doorknob. Priya nodded, feeling perfectly calm and clear of any thoughts.

Ruben entered the room first, and immediately went to his sister. He hugged her tightly. “I was so worried about you. Don’t do this again, promise me.”

Priya released herself from the hug and looked at him. “I promise, but you have to promise never to lie to me again,” she replied.

He briefly looked abashed, and then squeezed her shoulder. “You got it, no secrets from now on.”

Mrs. Ling and Venkath, who had been quietly watching the exchange, looked relieved. Venkath finally said, “Hello, Priya. Good to see you again.”

“Hello, Dr. Venkath,” was all she said before turning to Mrs. Ling. “I think we need to discuss the plan, time is passing us by. The sooner we get this done and over with, the sooner we can all go home.”

Mrs. Ling replied, “Yes, you’re right about time running out. If he suspects something is up, he will get away before we even know it.”

“Let’s get to it then. The three of us will go to the market, since we now know that he frequents it daily. Ruben and I will wait in the alley, while Priya talks to him. Hopefully she can find out where he lives,” she said.

“Wait, what do you mean the three of you? Where do I fit in this picture?” Venkath said.

“Venkath, he’ll know something is up if he sees you. You’re too close to this case, and we can’t risk him suspecting something is up. He might try to hurt Priya if he sees you,” Mrs. Ling said matter-of-factly.

Venkath blanched a little. The woman knew which buttons to push, he gave that to her. His respect for her went up a notch. By his reaction, she clearly knew he had feelings for Priya and she wasted no time in capitalising on that.

“Alright, I’ll do what you all wish. But know that he probably knows I am here. Lawrence is not stupid, he has spies everywhere,” he said.

“That’s a risk we will have to take, but I am not going to risk any of our lives in this operation, Dr. Venkath. We will all be back here in a couple of hours, and then we can plan the next course of action,” Ruben chipped in.

“Priya, I need to talk to you about something for a few minutes,” Venkath said.

Priya raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Me? Why?”

“Please, it will only take two minutes,” he said.

Ruben and Mrs. Ling glanced at each other. Priya knew that if she looked at Ruben, she’d falter. So she looked steadily at Venkath and said: “Sure, let’s use the other room.”

Venkath could have sighed with relief. She was a little unpredictable, this feisty woman. He thought she would have said a firm no, but she had agreed. That gave him hope.

They went into the spare bedroom and he turned on the light and fan. She closed the door behind them and stood by the armchair in the room, a few feet away from him.

“Priya, I have to be honest. I don’t think this plan is going to work, using you as bait. My gut tells me that Lawrence has something planned,” he began.

“He may, he may not. But I’ve decided to do this and am going ahead with it. That won’t change,” she replied, her mouth set in a determined line.

“I don’t have a good feeling about this, yes. But it’s also because I care what happens to you,” he blurted out, surprised even at himself.

She looked at him silently, her mouth slightly agape. Clearly, she was as taken aback as he was.

“I’m not doing this, we are not doing this. Our priorities are clearly different. I’m doing this for my sister, that’s all,” she said flatly. Her gaze was determined, but flinty.

“I understand, I’m not trying to pressure you to do otherwise. And I don’t expect you to feel the same way, either. I just wanted you to know,” he said quietly, looking searchingly at her face.

Something in the way he looked at her made Priya feel…something. Something that she couldn’t handle right now, because it would sway her from her goal.

She turned to go and despite the part of his brain that was logical, he placed his hand on her arm to stop her.

“Don’t do this, Priya. It’s too risky, Lawrence is twisted and unpredictable,” he cautioned.

She pulled away from him and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “No, you don’t get to tell me what to do. Not even Ruben does,” she said.

He held up his hands in surrender, but there was fear in his eyes. And a part of her latched on to that fear and the feeling was cloying, so real. Yes, she could get killed. She felt her breath and heart rate begin to increase, so she took a deep breath. Now is not the time for cowardice, Priya, you’ve your sister to avenge.

She could work with the fear, instead of let it consume her, she knew. She just had to be careful, and work according to plan. Not what the others had planned. No, Priya had an idea of her own and she was going ahead with it, whether Ruben and the others liked it or not.

Yet, she felt compassion towards Venkath as he kept on looking at her so earnestly, yet cautiously. And something else that she dare not name, that had no place in her current situation. And likely in either of their futures.

“I will be okay, Venkath,” she said in a kinder tone. She genuinely believed she would, but he didn’t look convinced.

“That’s the first time you’ve called me by my name,” he said quietly. And before she had time to react, he stepped forward and touched the side of her face.

Stop him, Priya. Stop him now. She grabbed the hand still cradling her cheek, meaning to push it away. Then something gave within her and she stepped closer until their noses were nearly touching.

“What is going on here?” Ruben stood at the doorway, his face flaming with anger.

“Priya, what is going on here?” Ruben stood in the doorway, his face red with anger.

“Nothing, Ruben. We’re done here, aren’t we, Venkath?” she said calmly, although her face still felt warm and her heart was beating wildly.

“Priya…” Venkath started to say, but she shook her head. Without another look at him, she walked out of the room.

Ruben walked up to Venkath, who looked frustrated, and dejected. But he didn’t care. Protecting his sister was all he cared about. And Venkath was standing in the way of that.

“You stay away from Priya from now on, Venkath. I’ve already lost a sister because of you and that is not happening again,” he said icily.

“I’m truly sorry for what happened to Shruthi, Ruben. I would change things if I could, but I can’t. As for Priya, I’ll do it if that’s what she wants,” he said firmly.

Ruben looked taken aback. But he recovered quickly and stepped forward, jabbing Venkath in the chest with his forefinger. “I know she’s conflicted, but Priya always does the right thing. Remember that,” he said and walked out of the room.

Venkath’s heart sank. Ruben was probably right, but he wasn’t prepared to give up on Priya just yet. There was something between them, and he knew it could flourish if Priya would only be true to herself.

**Author's Note:**

> [](http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/)  
>  This work is licensed under a [Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License](http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/).


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